A Dragon in Disguise
by justsmile17
Summary: The world believed her to be dead, murdered with her mother and brother, but Rhaenys Targaryen is alive, living in disguise as a Princess of Dorne. Everyone knows her as Maliya Martell, yet she has never forgotten the cruelty done to her family. Her rage and hatred grow every year and now she finally has a chance to get revenge. Nothing will stand in her way.. not even Robb Stark.
1. Proposal

**Author's Note: Sooo, I've done it again. Truth be told I've always wanted to write a GoT story ever since the first season, but I haven't had a solid idea until recently.**

 **This story will feature a Rhaenys Targaryen/Robb Stark pairing. I have listed is as OC as well, because everything about Rhaenys is from my imagination since she we know next to nothing about her. I understand that this pairing isn't popular, but I hope you guys will like the idea of my story and give it a chance! If I get enough interest in the story, I'll definitely continue with it**

 **I want to give a big thank you to Dannylionthe1st and Maddie Rose, my new beta and friend for helping me with this! She also designed the badass image for this story – the girl in the picture is Rhaenys! If you haven't read any of her work, I definitely urge you to do so! She's an amazing writer with great ideas.**

 **Anyways, enjoy the chapter and don't forget to review!**

* * *

Chapter 1: Proposal

 **Varys' POV**

Dressed in a heavy, dark brown roughspun cloak, Varys quietly stole up the steps of Maegor's Holdfast. He could hear the echoes of steel swords clashing, men shouting and screaming as they fought and died. King Aerys, the foolish man, ignored his council and opened the gates for Tywin Lannister and his army. That army was now ransacking the city while Aerys' army scrambled to defend it.

 _It was time._

He had been preparing for this moment ever since Princess Elia had sent him that secret message all those months ago. He remembered her terrified, tear-stricken face as though it was only yesterday.

" _Varys!" Elia had gasped when she spotted him entering the deepest part of the castle, her requested meeting place. "You came! Thank the gods."_

" _Of course, Your Grace," Varys responded with a small smile, holding his torch higher in order to see her better. He kept the smile on his face although concern flooded through him at her appearance. She looked thinner than usual and her skin had an unhealthy pallor to it. Her dress was hanging off her thin frame and there were deep purple bags under her eyes. Varys knew that she had difficulty after Aegon was born, but something told him this was more than that. "Why did you request to meet? Down here of all places?" he added, looking around the dark, damp room apprehensively. "Your message was very cryptic."_

 _Elia wrung her hands together, looking anxious. "I didn't want to explain in the message just in case it was intercepted."_

" _Very clever, Your Grace," Varys complimented, inclining his head, keeping his tone even as hers grew more panicked._

" _I need your help, Varys," Elia whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't know who else to turn to. Ever since my – " she paused, pain and anger flashing through her eyes. "Ever since Rhaegar kidnapped or ran away with that Stark girl, I've had this awful feeling that something terrible is going to happen. Now the Baratheons and the Starks have declared war and they are a formidable force. If they should win, if they should take King's Landing, I need to know that my ch – children will be safe." A tear trickled down her cheek though she didn't brush it away. "I don't know who to trust anymore. My family would help, of course, but they are too far away. Aerys, though he is family, is too unpredictable. The things he did to Brandon Stark and the others…." She trailed off, shuddering. "I can't let anything happen to my children."_

 _Varys was nodding before she had finished speaking, his face thoughtful. "Truthfully, I have been worried about this as well. If His Grace should lose the war, the Targaryen line must survive. I'm sure he has an escape plan for his wife and son, but as you have pointed out, he can be unpredictable." He paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to phrase his idea delicately. "If we were to smuggle you and your children out of King's Landing, the Baratheon's and the Stark's would not rest until you are all dead." Varys continued, feeling sympathetic as he heard Elia's sharp intake of death. "Our best option, I believe, would be to let them_ think _your children were dead." He watched the emotion play across her face as the full implication of what he was saying sunk in. Confusion, realization and then disgust. He continued in a soft voice. "We need them to believe that the bodies are Rhaenys and Aegon and erase any suspicions they might have."_

 _Elia frowned at the floor, nodding slowly, her swallow harsh and audible. When she looked back up at him, her jaw was set and determination shone from her eyes. "I will stay with the children. When or if they come looking for us, my presence will help them believe that they are in fact, mine."_

 _Although this helped with his plan, Varys felt the need to make sure she knew what she was agreeing to. "Your Grace… if the soldiers come after you and your children, there is the possibility – "_

" _I know," Elia interrupted, her voice strong for the first time. "I will do whatever is necessary to protect them."_

" _You are a good mother, Princess Elia," Varys told her sincerely. "Of course I'll help you and your children."_

" _Oh, thank you, Varys," Elia whispered, eyes shining with tears as she stepped forward to grasp both of Varys' hands in her gratitude. "I don't know how I can ever repay you."_

 _His smile turned sad. "I think the price you're willing to pay is more than enough."_

Thankfully, the soldiers hadn't reached the Holdfast yet. Varys hadn't anticipated Aerys deciding against his council so soon, and had to move quickly to put his plan in place. He used his little spiders to send word to his accomplice to set things in motion, made one stop and a nearby home to pick up the package and headed towards Rhaenys' room, the heavy sack slung over his shoulder. The plan was to have Rhaenys wait in her room while Elia stayed in the nursery with the baby.

His heart nearly stopped in his chest when he encountered her empty bedchambers. He could smell the sweat dripping off him as he hurried along the corridor, his eyes frantically flickering from room to room. An audible sigh of relief escaped him when he finally found her trembling in the corner of her father's room, her arms around her knees and her brown eyes wide with fear.

 _We need to move quickly. The concoction will be wearing off any minute now._

He carefully set the sack on the ground and slowly walked over to where the poor girl was sitting. As he crouched down next to her, he put a pleasant, reassuring smile on his face and reminded himself that this girl had only just turned three years old. "Hello, Rhaenys," he greeted in a soft voice. "Your mother sent me to come get you."

"Where is she?" The girl asked in a surprisingly unwavering voice. "I can't find her or my brother. I was looking for Balerion when I – when I heard loud noises." She glanced out the window where the clash of steel echoed through.

"I'm not sure where they are," Varys told her, glancing over at the thankfully still empty doorway. They needed to move quickly, they were running out of time. "There are bad people coming to the city, Princess, and your mother wanted me to make sure you get out of here safely."

He pulled a small vial out of one of his many pockets. "What's that?" Rhaenys asked, frowning slightly.

"One of my friends made this for me. It's a drink that will help you fall asleep," he explained. "When you wake up, you'll be safe and far away from here."

Rhaenys looked uncertain. "I'm not thirsty," she told him shaking her head. "Or tired. I just want my mother."

"I know, child," Varys said gently. "I will protect you, there is no reason to be afraid – "

Rhaenys' eyes flashed at the words, and even at her young age, Varys could tell that she had inherited her father's formidable glare. "I am not afraid."

"Brave girl," he complimented her, feeling slightly taken aback. He hadn't ever spent much time with Rhaenys, but he could tell that she was no ordinary child. "Now do as your mother says and drink this." He held the vial out to her, one ear turned to the window. _Was it just his paranoia or was the sound of fighting growing closer?_

With a slightly shaking hand, Rhaenys finally took the vial and drank it, grimacing and coughing in disgust as Varys slipped the vial back in his pocket. The effect was immediate. She blinked multiple times as she fought to stay awake. She was fighting a losing battle, however, and collapsed sideways. "My cat," she slurred as her eyes drifted shut. "I want… Balerion."

"I wish there was time to find your cat," Varys murmured, staring down at the girl sadly before moving into action. He gently lifted the Rhaenys body double out of the sack, trying his hardest not to look at her and imagine what her fate would most likely be. For there was little doubt in his mind; if the Targaryens lost the battle, the enemy wouldn't stop until they were all dead. He laid her on the floor, his heart racing with anxiety as he saw her beginning to stir. Her hair was brown as were eyes and her skin was olive toned. It had taken him months to find a girl that looked like Rhaenys Targaryen – he had to call in multiple favors until he found a suitable likeness.

This whole plan was costing him an exorbitant amount of money, but if it worked, it would all be worth it.

With even more care, Varys picked up Rhaenys and put her in the sack, lifting her over his shoulder and heading out the door just as the other girl's eyes began to flutter open. He turned left, to leave the way he had come, but when he reached the staircase he could hear the sounds of heavy footsteps racing upwards. Looking around quickly, he squeezed himself into a nearby alcove and waited, barely breathing as a small group of soldiers thundered by, heading towards Rhaegar's bedchambers. As Varys slipped out of his hiding spot and headed down the stairs, the sounds of a child screaming filled his ears, a sound that would haunt Varys for the rest of his life.

His shoulders involuntarily hunched against it as he moved as stealthily but as quickly as possible. It was a miracle that he didn't run into any other soldiers as he reached the first floor and headed to the back of the Holdfast. Waiting behind a nearby building was a large cart containing identical sacks filled with straw to make them look full. Varys placed Rhaenys with the rest of them, pulled the hood of his cloak further over his head and began to wheel the cart through the part of the city not overrun with soldiers. He moved at a casual pace as he headed towards the ocean, taking care not to hurry even when the warning bells began to toll.

When he finally got to his destination, he left the cart on the outskirts of the city and grunted as he picked up Rhaenys in the sack again. He slowly headed down a small, rocky hill, taking care where to place his feet lest he slip and fall. The beauty of this place was that it was on the opposite end of the harbor and nobody ever ventured down here.

There were two nondescript men waiting on the bottom near the water, one of them was holding a small bundle in a white blanket and the other was waiting in one of the two rowboats gently bobbing in the water.

"Everything went according to plan?" Varys asked the man holding the bundle as he reached them.

"Perfectly," the man answered in a smooth voice, as Varys peered down. A small baby was sleeping in his arms, a tuft of fair hair just barely visible. If the boy opened his eyes, Varys knew he would see a brilliant, violet color reflecting back up at him. "He fell asleep a couple of minutes ago. I think he likes me."

"Let's hope it stays that way until you reach Essos," Varys murmured to him so the other man wouldn't hear. "I cannot stress enough the importance of secrecy, Myles. No one can know – "

"I heard you the first thousand times, Varys," Myles complained, rolling his eyes. "We created this plan together, I know what must be done. I'll make sure the boy makes it safely to Connington."

"Be sure that you do," Varys warned. "Or it will be all of our heads."

Myles rolled his eyes again and muttered his farewell, placing Aegon carefully into his makeshift carrier and climbing into the boat. He gave a solemn salute as he began to row away and only when he was out of sight around the bend did Varys turn to the other man still sitting silently in the boat. He helped Varys gently lay Rhaenys on the bottom of the boat, opening the sack so her face was visible and it was easier for her to breathe. "You have about an hour before she begins to wake up," Varys told him. He sent him a piercing look. "I am trusting you with this girl's life. Do not disappoint me."

"I won't," the man agreed in a deep voice thick with a Dornish accent. "We have worked together many times before, Varys, and I always get the job done. I will make sure no harm comes to the little princess."

"No," Varys said sharply. "From this moment forward Rhaenys Targaryen is dead. Remember you are her father traveling back home. Help her choose a new name. Stress that this is what her mother wanted – she may awaken scared and confused."

"I have a little girl of my own, back home," the man told him, gazing fondly down at Rhaenys. "I will be honored to bring her home to her family. Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn will be thrilled that she is alive."

"Safe travels," Varys wished them, stepping back as the man picked up the oars. "When you get to Dorne, request an audience with Prince Doran and Oberyn _only._ The less people who know she is alive, the safer she will be."

The man nodded and Varys watched once more as the boat slipped out of sight. The path before them was already planned, but it was up to these men to complete the task. Varys would have gone himself, but his absence at a time like this would have looked highly suspicious and he didn't want any questions to be raised.

 _Good luck, Rhaenys Targaryen,_ he thought with both a hint of sadness and hope for the future.

* * *

It had taken over a week to reach the Water Gardens in Dorne. After rowing a safe distance away, the man called Corren reached the ship that was waiting for them to take them out of Blackwater Bay and across the Narrow Sea. When the girl had woken up she was understandably frightened and confused, though she tried to put on a brave face by narrowing her eyes and keeping her voice strong.

"Who are you?" She asked, scooting away from him and looking around with wide eyes. "Where are we?"

"It's alright," Corren murmured soothingly, holding his hands up in a way that showed he wasn't going to hurt her. "My name is Corren and your mother sent me to help you. Right now we are on a ship that is sailing for Dorne. I'm taking you to your Uncle Doran; you'll be safe there."

"Where is my mother?" Rhaenys demanded, her wide brown eyes filling with tears. "I want my mother."

"I know, sweet child," Corren answered, his heart breaking for this little girl. "I don't know where your mother is. But I do know that she loves you very much. When the bad people came, she made sure that you were alright… "

Looking exhausted and terrified, Rhaenys moved farther away from him until her back was against the wall and wrapped her arms around her knees. Tears were steadily coursing down her face, though no sound escaped her. Corren fell silent, choosing not to push her any further. He sat there with her as she cried, eventually tiring herself out and falling asleep once more.

The rest of their journey was mostly silent. Corren explained that in order to keep her safe, she needed to choose a new name, a new identity. Out of the options that he gave her, Maliya was the name that she grudgingly liked best. She nodded when he told her that for now, he was going to pretend to be her father. For most of the trip, she stayed below deck, out of sight of the other crew members. Corren worried about how withdrawn she was and had to remind himself that after everything she'd been through it was to be expected. Every once in a while she asked him about her mother and brother, but he always had to give the same answer. He wasn't sure what happened to them because he was with her. Once they got to Dorne, however, her uncles would surely know.

When they finally docked in Dorne, Corren picked up Rhaenys "Wrap your arms around my neck and keep your face hidden," Corren whispered to her, feeling gratified when she did so. "Remember, no one can know who you really are." Rhaenys nodded against his neck, her little arms tightening slightly.

They were able to enter the city fairly easily, but were stopped at the gates of the Old Palace. "State your business," The guard said gruffly, moving to stand in their way with his hand on the pommel of his sword.

"We request an audience with Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn," Corren announced, tightening his grip on Rhaenys and sending up a quick prayer that she didn't show her face. The guard glanced at her and Corren shrugged with a small smile. "I lost her mother two years ago and no one was available to watch her."

"The Lords of Dorne are not accepting guests at this time." The guard's tone was final as he ignored what Corren just said. "They ask everyone to understand that they are grieving and wish that you respect their privacy."

Since Corren had been on a ship for the past week, he was unaware of what the guard was referring to. Apparently the news had spread fast, however and it wasn't difficult to assume he was talking about the events in King's Landing. "I have important news regarding the Prince's family. News that they will want to hear immediately." When the guard still hesitated, not looking impressed, Corren continued. "My daughter and I have come from King's Landing. If you can't let us in, then send someone to ask if they will grant us an audience."

The first guard nodded to another who took off at a run towards The Old Palace. Corren waited patiently until the guard returned, nodding. He breathed a sigh of relief; he had already started creating a plan of how to break into the palace. The guards patted Corren down, taking his dagger and sword before allowing him to enter.

Corren ignored the ornate finery as the guard led him through the palace, focusing instead on what he was going to say to the two princes so they believed he was telling the truth. When the guard finally stopped, it was in front of a tall, intimidating man with dark skin and a long, sharp longaxe. The man sent Corren a sharp, distrustful look before stepping aside and following him in.

He entered a small sitting room with plush couches and long, flowing drapes. He recognized Prince Doran sitting on the couch, his fingers laced and his face pleasant. Prince Oberyn was pacing behind him, looking like a caged animal. Both of them looked exhausted, wearing obvious signs of grief.

"Good evening, friend," Prince Doran greeted with a smile. "Please, won't you join us?" He gestured to the couch next to him.

Corren didn't move. "I don't wish to be rude, Your Grace, but my instructions were very clear. I am to speak only with you and Prince Oberyn. No one else."

"Instructions from whom?" Prince Oberyn questioned, as he braced his hands against the couch, narrowing his eyes at Corren, who remained silent.

Prince Doran was gazing at Corren with an inquisitive, searching gaze. After a moment he called out, "Leave us, Areo."

Areo looked surprised and uncertain. "Your Grace – "

"I said leave us." Areo bowed at his words and left the room, shutting the door behind him after one last warning look at Corren.

Prince Doran gestured to the couch again. "Please, won't you and your daughter sit?"

 _This was it_. "She isn't my daughter," Corren told them, watching the looks of confusion cross their faces as he sat down on the offered couch. He tried to shift Rhaenys so she was sitting on his lap, but she whimpered, tightening his grip around his neck. "It's alright, sweet child," he murmured to her, rubbing her back soothingly. "We're finally here. Our journey's over and there's some people who want to see you." Slowly, Rhaenys pried her arms from around his neck and turned in his lap, looking around with wary eyes. "Prince Doran, Prince Oberyn – this is your niece, Rhaenys Targaryen."

If the moment wasn't filled with such an incredible amount of tension, Corren would have found the twin looks of astonishment and disbelief on their faces highly amusing. "You're lying," Prince Oberyn hissed, fury taking over his face. Rhaenys shrank back as his eyes flashed dangerously and he couldn't blame her. The Red Viper could be a very intimidating man. "Have you come here just to torture us? We received word from King's Landing just two days ago. Elia and her children are dead, murdered by Gregor Clegane, Amory Lorch and Tywin Lannister."

Rhaenys was trembling. She had perked up at the sound of her mother's name, and there was a slight frown on her face as she worked through what her uncle had said. "No!" She cried, covering her ears and shaking her head frantically back and forth. "Where's my mother? She's not dead! She's not!" A sob racked through her body. "I want my mother. And Aegon. And Balerion. I want to go home!"

Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn shared a look of bewilderment as Corren tried to soothe the poor girl. "She hasn't been sleeping," Corren told the princes. "She's both physically and mentally exhausted."

A look of joy was beginning to spread across Prince Doran's face as he slowly got off the couch and moved to kneel in front of Rhaenys. She quieted a little as he approached her, tears still dripping down her face as she sniffled. "I only met little Rhaenys once, you know," he mused in a low voice full of wonder. "A couple months after she was born. But I distinctly remember Elia mentioning a heart shaped birthmark just above her own heart. She said that it meant Rhaenys was going to doubly love and be loved in return." Moving cautiously, Prince Doran gently pulled her dress aside and sure enough, there was the heart shaped birthmark. "Oh," he breathed, his eyes shining with tears. "Oh, you sweet, brave girl." He pulled the girl from Corren's lap and into his arms, moving back to sit on the couch again. "You're home now. You're safe."

Prince Oberyn's anger seemed to have drained out of him as he rounded the couch and came to sit next to his brother, leaning over to gently stroke Rhaenys' hair as she rested her head on Doran's shoulder, still trembling slightly, exhausted. Prince Oberyn swallowed harshly to control the sudden onslaught of emotions. After a long moment, he looked back over at Corren who felt like he was intruding on a very special moment. "Tell us everything. Start from the beginning and leave nothing out."

So Corren did. He explained about how Elia had contacted Varys, who in turn contacted him, a friend from Dorne. He explained all the details of their plan, how the search had begun for a Rhaenys look alike (the looks on their faces weren't pleased with this part of the plan) and how he had helped smuggle her out of the city.

"And Elia?" Prince Oberyn questioned, the hope evident in the tone of his voice. "Aegon?

Corren could practically hear Varys hissing in his ear not to reveal any important information regarding the boy. "I'm sorry. They didn't make it," he lied, hating the way Prince Doran closed his eyes as the grief overwhelmed him. "The only people who know that Rhaenys lives are Varys and the people in this room. We talked about it briefly on the journey here, and I explained that in order to stay safe, she had to change her name. She's chosen Maliya."

"A beautiful name," Prince Doran commented, pressing a kiss to her head. He was silent for a moment. "I'll adopt her as one of my own," he said suddenly, brow furrowed. "She's around the same age as Quentyn, we can say that she's his twin."

"And why haven't you told the public about her for nearly three years?" Corren questioned, wanting them to think the plan through fully so no one would ask their own questions.

"We can say that she's been sick," Prince Oberyn jumped in. "She had a fever when she was born and we weren't sure if she was going to live."

"It might work," Corren admitted though he still felt uncertain.

"It _will_ work," Prince Doran corrected, clasping his brother on the shoulder. "A miracle happened today. My dead niece has come back to us, this one last, beautiful, piece of my sister. I will do everything to make sure nothing happens to her."

* * *

 _16 years later…_

 **Maliya's POV**

Maliya waited, crouched to the ground as she kept her breathing even and all her senses opened. She sensed movement from her left and acted almost on instinct, raising her sword with two hands and blocking the attack. Standing, in one smooth motion she knocked the weapon aside and kicked the attacker in the chest, sending her sprawling backwards.

She could hear her uncle's voice in her ear. _Always be aware of your surroundings._

Almost immediately another person attacked. Maliya rolled to the side, coming up in another crouch. She kicked her leg in a low circle attempting to sweep her attacker's legs out from under her but they jumped out of the way. Maliya sprang back to her feet, engaging her opponent with a series of parries and thrusts.

 _Stay light on your feet. Keep your movements smooth and fluid as you look for an opening._

She pushed the offensive until the first attacker joined in. After that she didn't have time to think; it was all action and reaction. One would engage her until she could knock them to the ground or shove them away, and then the other would attack before she had a chance to catch her breath.

A wicked grin lit her face as the sweat dripped from her brow. She loved this. She loved the burn in her muscles and the way her heart raced from the adrenaline, but she especially loved to win. To use the complex moves and techniques that she had been taught and watching the moment of realization in her opponents eyes when they accepted their defeat.

By unspoken consent the tension grew between the fighters, causing her sword to move faster as her body ducked and whirled, her skirts spinning out against her legs. The battle moved across the grounds, the sound of steel clashing loudly. Maliya used a nearby tree, jumping and pushing off it for momentum, bringing the sword up above her head and swinging it down. The force of her attack sent her opponent staggering backwards, her sword loose in her grip. Maliya slammed her sword across her opponent's, sending it flying out of her hands and flicked the point up to her throat.

"Dead!" A voice called out.

She faded into the background as Maliya focused on the last opponent. She waited patiently, her gaze focused and her body deceptively relaxed as she waited for them to make the first move. She didn't have to wait long. With an angry snarl, her opponent attacked. Maliya backpedaled slowly, feigning exhaustion as her opponent gained confidence. She blocked a high swing then knocked her opponent's sword down on a low swing, grabbing her right wrist with her left hand and spinning her around so her back was to Maliya's front. In the same motion, Maliya grabbed her opponent's opposite wrist with right hand so her opponent was rendered helpless, her arms behind her head in a chokehold and Maliya's sword pressing against her throat.

"Dead!" The voice called out again.

Maliya grinned as she let go of Tyene, who rubbed her shoulders with a disgruntled look on her face. The sound of clapping reached her ears and Maliya looked over to see Obara coming towards them, nodding in appreciation. "Expertly done, Maliya. It is rare to see a girl of eight and ten defeat two fighters both older and more experienced than her."

"Well, I've had an excellent teacher," Maliya answered, grabbing a towel from a nearby bench and wiping the sweat from her face.

Obara's eyebrows rose. "Are you paying me a compliment, dear cousin?"

Maliya pretended to look surprised. "You? I was talking about Uncle Oberyn," she teased, a smile on her face as Obara let out an amused snort, throwing an arm around Maliya's shoulders as they headed back up to the Palace.

"That was… a good fight," Nymeria grudgingly complimented her, falling next to them.

"Yes," Tyene joined in from the other side, a frown on her face. "It wasn't bad."

Obara laughed again. "Oh, don't be jealous, sisters!" She cried jovially. "We should be celebrating the fact that our cousin has surpassed us as fighters."

"It's all that pent up sexual frustration," Tyene complained. Maliya rolled her eyes as Tyene delicately wrinkled her nose. _Here we go again…_ "She trains all day because she has nothing better to do with her time – "

"Just because you choose to throw yourself at every man who pays you a compliment doesn't mean I have to do the same," Maliya pointed out, keeping her teasing tone. Tyene sent her a mischievous look, not at all offended. She enjoyed the pleasures sex brought her and didn't care about what other people thought of her. "Besides, with how often you talk about it, I feel like I've had sex many times over."

"Yes," Nymeria agreed, nodding serenely. "You are a bit of a whore, Tyene."

Tyene scoffed. "And you're not?" Maliya watched with a fond smile as the girls descended into lighthearted bickering. It was true that she was still a maid. It wasn't that she found men unattractive – it was a conscious decision on her part. All part of a plan that she had been piecing together and preparing for for a long, long time. A plan that she planned to put into action today.

"Are you coming, Maliya?" Obara asked, forcing her to come back to the present. "We're going to raid the kitchens before supper tonight."

"Not this time," Maliya answered, shaking her head. "I'm going to have a bath to wash off the smell of my sweet, sweet victory."

She laughed as Nymeria scoffed and Tyene made a face at her, waving as she began to head in the opposite direction. She loved those girls as if they were her own sisters and couldn't have imagined growing up without them. Even though she was many years younger than them, they were patient with her and did not seem to mind her company. Each one of them had taught her something different and molded her into the person she had become today.

From Obara she learned to be fearless, to trust in her instincts in any given situation. From Nymeria she learned the importance of cautiousness, especially on the battlefield. If you're patient enough, the enemy will make a mistake and that's when you capitalize on it. And from Tyene, besides all the unwanted advice about sex, Maliya had learned the importance of appearances. Men automatically assume a woman to be compliant and weak, even in a place like Dorne. Maliya learned the benefits of being underestimated and how to use that to her advantage.

After Maliya called to have a bath drawn for her, she paused for a moment before climbing in, gazing down at her reflection in the water. She pulled out the cloth that was holding her hair back and watched as it tumbled down her back in loose waves. Her deep brown eyes were cold and emotionless, and her skin was olive toned, though it was a shade lighter than her sister and her brothers. She shrugged out of the beautiful but now possibly ruined dress, hearing her father's slightly annoyed sigh. It was a conversation that they'd had many times before.

" _Must you wear a dress when you're training?" He would ask in exasperation. "Now it's covered in leaves and mud."_

" _If I'm ever attacked, father, they're not going to wait while I go inside and change into a pair of breeches," Maliya would answer, giving him a passing kiss on the cheek._

" _And just who are you expecting to attack you?" He asked curiously, but she would always brush it off with a laugh, never letting him know the real reason. She wasn't prepared for that just yet._

On the outside, she was Maliya Martell, daughter of Prince Oberyn and sister to Arianne, Quentyn and Trystane. She'd had to embrace her new identity thoroughly if she wanted to survive. It was that or die. Maliya was a princess of the sun – Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken – and she was proud of it.

On the inside, however she was and would forever be Rhaenys Targaryen, daughter of Rhaegar and Elia and sister to Aegon. She would always be a dragon no matter how many years she spent pretending to be otherwise; because although she didn't have many memories of her real family, she would never forget them. A vague memory of the boat ride from King's landing – the smell of the sea, the rocking of the ship and the utter terror that she felt – was all that she remembered. At that young age she didn't understand what was happening, but as she grew older, both her uncles were fully open and honest about what happened to her family.

The hate that burned inside her had started out as small as a grain of sand on the shore, but it had grown until it was a large fiery ball that threatened to consume her.

Maliya stepped into the water, taking her time as she washed herself, planning what she was going to say. Her mood was pensive as she finished washing and got out to dress herself. What would she do if her uncles didn't agree with her plan? The thought of all those years of training and scheming, wasted, made her physically sick to her stomach.

She dressed in a thin, blue dress, pulling her hair back and twisting it into a simple braid. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Maliya left her bedchambers and headed for the very same sitting room where she had first been reunited with her uncles. She knew they liked to conduct casual business here rather than in the throne room.

"Hello, Areo," Maliya murmured with a genuine smile on her face. Although the man was large and intimidating, he was very sweet to her and loyal to Prince Doran and the Martell family.

"Hello, Princess," he greeted, bowing to her slightly. "Your father is just finishing up with his last meeting. Would you like me to let him know you are here?"

"That's alright, I don't want to interrupt. I can wait – " As she was speaking, the door to the sitting room swung open and three men walked out of it, shaking hands with her father before heading down the hall.

Her father's face looked tired as he watched them go, though his face brightened considerably when he saw her standing there. "Maliya!" He exclaimed, going over and placing his hands on her shoulders to press a kiss to her forehead. "I haven't seen you at all today. How are you? Is there something I can help you with?"

"Hello Father," she smiled, looking up at him. "I was hoping to speak with you and Uncle Oberyn privately. It's important."

"Of course," Prince Doran agreed, though a curious frown was playing around the corner of his lips. "Areo, would you please send someone to fetch Oberyn?"

"Certainly, Your Grace," Areo bowed.

"Come in, Maliya, have a seat," her father said, guiding her inside with a hand on the small of her back. Maliya did as he suggested, resisting the urge to wring her hands or bite her fingernails. She was filled with such a nervous, restless energy that she sprang to her feet the moment her uncle entered the room, a wide grin on his face.

"Maliya!" He greeted jubilantly, kissing his niece on the cheek. "I just saw Obara and the other girls. They say you took on Nymeria and Tyene and _won._ That is incredibly impressive. Did you know your daughter is so talented, brother?"

Even when they were alone, they still kept up appearances – it had been so ingrained into them that they didn't even think it was strange anymore. Prince Doran smiled proudly. "She is talented in many ways."

"I'll consider myself truly talented when I can defeat you, Uncle," Maliya disagreed, inclining her head.

Uncle Oberyn's grin widened. "Yes, maybe one day, Maliya. Keep training like you are and you'll surpass my skill for sure."

"Now, what is it you wanted to speak with us about?" Prince Doran asked Maliya as Oberyn sprawled on the couch next to him.

 _I am not afraid,_ she thought to herself, as the nerves made her stomach twist. They were words that her father, Rhaegar, used to say to her when she would wake up from a silly, childhood nightmare.

Taking a deep breath, she began. "I wanted to start out by saying that you can't even begin to understand how much I appreciate everything that you two have done for me."

"Why do I have the feeling that I am not going to like this conversation?" Prince Doran muttered, looking wary.

Maliya ignored him. "You took me into your family when I had nowhere else to go. You fed me, clothed me and loved me. You taught me about the world and the importance of family. You allowed me to train and learn how to fight, to protect myself even when most would laugh at the thought of a woman holding a blade."

Prince Oberyn slowly sat forward, his eyes narrowed as he leaned his elbows on his knees. It appeared that he didn't like this conversation either. The look on his face made her heart beat faster with anxiety. "But?" He asked slowly, his voice low. She always forgot how quickly the Red Viper's mood changed.

She realized she was wringing her hands and forced them back to her sides, clenching her fists and taking a deep breath. "But for the past couple of years I've been feeling…. restless. As if the life I am living has no point or meaning to it." She regretted the choice of words as soon as they were out of her mouth, but they didn't seem offended.

"And what do you feel that you should be doing instead?" Prince Doran asked, lacing his fingers together.

Maliya's brown eyes were hard as steel. "The monsters who murdered my family still live. They're breathing, eating, sleeping and fucking their way through a life that they don't deserve. I want you to send me north so that I can help avenge the death of my family." At the silent, flabbergasted look on their faces, Maliya continued, speaking quickly before they could say no. "I'm not pretending to be some assassin in the night – I don't have the experience or the skill for that. I just want to help in any way that I can. No one knows that Rhaenys Targaryen is alive – they'll all believe me to be Maliya Martell. Send Maliya north. Let me recover information about Lannisters, let me spy for you. Anything other than sit here and wish that I could do something more!" Maliya was breathing heavily by the time she had finished.

There was a long moment of silence. Prince Doran, for once, looked at a loss for words. His mouth opened and closed, several times and he had to clear his throat before speaking. "Send you… north?" He repeated weakly, beginning to shake his head. "No, absolutely not. It's too dangerous! I cannot believe you would suggest sending you away to another part of the world where you would be all alone – "

Prince Oberyn interrupted him, his sharp gaze still locked on Maliya. "If we say no, that we will not send you north, what will you do?"

Maliya shrugged. "I will find a way to go on my own."

The two brothers shared a look. "You have only just turned eight and ten, Maliya," Prince Doran reminded gently.

"I am not a child," Maliya snapped, anger beginning to spread through her. She had been afraid of this defense. "How can you sit here for _six and ten_ years and let those murderers get away with killing my family! Amory Lorch stabbed the poor girl who was supposed to be me half a hundred times! I've heard it said that her body was a mangled bloody mess, barely recognizable. Gregor Clegane smashed my infant brother's head against the wall, shattering his skull instantly! He _raped_ my mother with Aegon's brains on his hands before killing her as well. And Tywin Lannister, the man who ordered their deaths, is still lord of Casterly Rock! Do you not care – "

Fury flashed through Prince Doran's normally passive eyes. "Do not insult me, Maliya!" He thundered, causing her to blink in surprise. "Elia was my sister and Aegon my nephew. You forget that they were my family as well. Of course, I care."

Shame spread through her, starting from her toes and working its way up. She struggled to push her own anger away, moving forward to sit on the couch next to Prince Doran, grasping his hand. "I apologize, father, that was out of line. I know you cared for my mother very much. I just – I feel like I have no purpose in my life. I have loved living here with you, but I feel as if I am slowly suffocating."

"Do you wish us to send you off to your possible death?" Prince Doran asked quietly, looking sickened by the thought.

"The training," Prince Oberyn interjected suddenly, causing both of them to look over at him in surprise. "Obara uses a spear, Nymeria uses a bullwhip and Tyene either a poison covered spear or daggers. But you have always chosen to use a regular sword. You trained with a shield, you trained to shoot arrows and you always wore a cumbersome dress." He paused. "Just how long have you been planning this, Maliya?"

"A while," she admitted. It had been nerve-wracking telling them about what she was thinking, but now that she had, she felt slightly better. "It still isn't a full plan as you can tell. But the feeling, the urge to _do something_ has been within me since I was young. Probably since I started training with you and the Sand Snakes."

Prince Doran lifted a hand and placed it on her cheek, his expression sad. "I'll think about what you said and let you know my final decision."

* * *

 **Doran's POV**

As soon as Maliya closed the door behind her, Doran rubbed his hands over his face wearily. He could already feel the beginnings of a headache throbbing behind his eyes. "What happened to the little girl who was afraid to venture out of the palace? How could I have missed the strength of her anger and the depth of her desire for revenge?" He asked softly, mystified.

"The little girl that we knew appears to be gone. She is a woman nearly grown, and a brave one at that," his brother answered, sounding impressed.

Doran stifled a sigh. "Brave?" He asked. "Or naïve? She has no idea what the world is like out there. Sure she has trained to fight, but that alone won't help her survive among the Lannisters. She'll get eaten alive in King's Landing. She'll be caught if she attempts to kill Tywin Lannister or anyone else and all our efforts to keep her alive will be for naught."

"I agree," Oberyn drawled, now sounding completely unconcerned.

"Do you not care that Maliya appears to have a death wish?" Doran demanded, moving to sit in the seat she had previously occupied.

"It's not a death wish, brother, don't be so dramatic," Oberyn answered, throwing an arm on the back of the couch. "She's expressing that same feeling of injustice that we have felt everyday for the past six and ten years. You are the one that advised caution when I wanted to go to war, but that hasn't eased the pain that we feel over our beloved sister."

"She's still just a child," Doran whispered, shaking his head. "I can't let her go off on her own. I'm going to deny her request."

Oberyn sent him a sharp look. "And then what? You're going to lock her in a tower and throw away the key? You can't keep her here as a prisoner. She'll grow to resent and hate us."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" He demanded.

"I know you've been sending and receiving multiple letters regarding a betrothal for Maliya. Stop inventing excuses and turning them down. As much as it would pain us to see her go, she is more than old enough to marry now. We can use that to our advantage. Ideally she would probably want a marriage with a Lannister so she could use him for information, but I agree, that's too dangerous. Send her north like she wants, but make sure it's somewhere that will be safe for her. Somewhere safe that no one will learn her real identity, but also so that she thinks she's helping get revenge for her family."

"And where am I going to find a place like that?" He asked, mystified. "I want to marry her to a man that will grow to love and respect her for the amazing woman that she is."

A slow, knowing grin was beginning to spread across Oberyn's face. "I know just the man for the job."

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

It was almost three weeks before her father and uncle summoned her back to the sitting room. The length of time didn't surprise her. She often said that if her father didn't have someone choose his outfit in the morning, he would end up spending the entire day naked.

Maliya spent that time trying to be patient. Training with her cousins and spending her remaining time with Arianne and Trystane. Her "twin," Quentyn, was sent away at a young age be fostered by the Yronwood's, and not for the first time, sadness spread through her – she had never really gotten to know him, and now she never will.

She honestly didn't know what she would do if her father denied her request, but she did know that she couldn't stay here any longer. Her life as a Martell felt like a sham, a lie that she just couldn't keep living.

"You know I can ask my handmaiden to do this," Maliya remarked, twisting her head over her shoulder to glance at her sister.

Arianne promptly turned her face back around. "Stay still," she ordered lightly, running her fingers through Maliya's hair to get rid of the knots. "There are lots of different things we can ask the servants to do that we can do ourselves. Having one's hair braided is a simple pleasure – I know you love when I play with your hair."

Maliya hummed her approval. "I can't disagree with you there, sister."

Arianne was silent for a moment while her fingers flew through Maliya's long hair, creating an intricate design. "So are you going to share what has been on your mind these past few weeks?" She asked.

Her tone was light, but the question made Maliya's heart sink. She had been lying to her older sister for six and ten years and it didn't get any easier with time. "What do you mean?" She asked, stalling.

"You've been distracted. Lost in thought even more so than usual."

"I'm fine, Arianne," Maliya reassured her, risking throwing her a quick smile over her shoulder. "There's no reason to worry about me."

Arianne finished her braid, tying the end with a strip of cloth, bringing the braid over her shoulder and moving to kneel in front of Maliya's chair, a concerned but caring smile on her face. "You know you can tell me anything, right 'Liya?"

Maliya opened her mouth to answer when they were interrupted by a handmaiden entering the room. She curtsied, keeping her eyes on the floor. "Pardon me," she apologized, turning slightly red. "Princess Maliya, Prince Doran and Prince Oberyn are requesting your presence."

Maliya thanked her and stood. "I'll see you later?" She asked Arianne, ignoring the burning curiosity in her eyes. Arianne nodded slowly, her gaze searching and Maliya had to turn her back before she could see the guilt reflecting back at her.

When Maliya entered the sitting room, she found her Uncle Oberyn sitting on the couch this time, while her father paced by the windows. Her uncle's expression was calm and pleasant but her father looked slightly agitated. Maliya slowly entered the room, her gaze flickering between them as she sat down on the couch, her back ridged. She frowned as Uncle Oberyn winked at her – what was that supposed to mean?

"I have come to a decision," Prince Doran announced, turning to face her. "I've decided to accept your request to help us get vengeance for the death of Elia and Aegon."

Maliya's shoulders slumped with relief, a brilliant smile beginning to take over her face. "Oh thank you father – "

He held up a hand, silencing her. "I have a few conditions," he began, causing the smile to slowly slip off her face. She really should have expected this. "The only way we will allow you to go north is if you follow the plan we have laid out for you."

"Are you sure you want to go through with this, Maliya?" Prince Oberyn asked, leaning forward. "I can admire and relate to your need for vengeance. The same feelings plague me constantly. The people in the north are… different than here in Dorne. Here, women have respect and power. In the north, women are inferior to men. They are expected to listen to their husbands and birth sons and daughters. You have a sharp tongue and can defeat half the men in Westeros in battle. I'm not certain that you will fit in in the north."

"Thank you for your concern, uncle," Maliya smiled. "But I will do whatever is necessary to help you."

When she looked back on this moment, she wished that she had taken the time to hear their plan before she blindly agreed to what they came up with.

"Even though I am not your true father, you have been like a daughter to me," Prince Doran continued, folding his hands behind his back. "Therefore I refuse to send you to King's Landing or anywhere near those murderous bastards."

Maliya's mouth opened and closed. "But – But father, the Lannisters are at the heart of all of this! How do you expect me to spy on them if I don't have access to the information?"

"Too dangerous," he disagreed, shaking his head. "The truth is I've been looking into finding you a husband for a while now. I've kept putting it off, but ever since you mentioned going north, I knew it was time." Horror was slowly beginning to trickle through her as she sat there, frozen. "The families' husband that I have chosen for you is known for their honor and justice – I would rather you be treated well, Maliya, I'll not have you harmed. This family is also close to the ruling family so you may discover some important secrets."

 _You're sending me away to appease me, but this isn't what I wanted,_ Maliya wanted to argue. "Who?" Was all she could ask, her voice dry and hoarse.

"They have already accepted the proposal. You are the betrothed of Robb Stark, heir to the House of Winterfell."


	2. Goodbyes

**Author's Note: WOW! I'm so blown away by the response to the first chapter and I want to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed my story! I hope you guys like this chapter just as much as the first one!**

 **Special thanks to Maddie Rose for beta-ing this story! :)**

 **Don't forget to leave a review! They really make my day!**

* * *

Chapter 2: Goodbyes

" _Stark?"_ Maliya repeated incredulously, shock rushing through her. Her eyes were wide and betrayed, her posture stiff with a delayed sense of anger. "You would force me to marry the son of the man who helped the Usurper win my family's throne? I would much rather marry a Baratheon or a Lannister! At least from them I can learn some useful information! Winterfell is too far north – "

Prince Doran seemed to grow calmer the angrier she grew. "Renly Baratheon is betrothed to Margaery Tyrell and Joffrey Baratheon is not only far too young for you, but rumors have spread that he is an extremely unpleasant boy. Jaime Lannister is a knight in the Kingsguard so he cannot marry, and the only other male that remains is Lancel, who is a squire and not fit for someone of your station."

There was a barely restrained fury in Uncle Oberyn's as she mentioned marrying a Lannister. His face was dark and stormy, looking every bit of the famous Red Viper. "You are my niece," he growled in a warning voice. "You share my blood. I will not permit you to marry those Lannister bastards after what they have done. They do not deserve to touch you, let alone share the same air as you."

"But – " She tried to interrupt again, feeling panic rise up within her. This hadn't gone the way that she had wanted it to. She didn't want to become someone's wife, to stay meekly by his side while she bore him child after child. She could already feel the oppression of that life slowly causing whom she was as a person to disappear.

Seeing the distress on her face, the anger left his own as Uncle Oberyn got up from the couch and moved to sit next to her, putting a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. "Listen, Maliya," he murmured softly. "Your father has been receiving marriage proposals for you for years now. It's better that this happens now rather than later."

Maliya was shaking her head, glancing at her father. "But Arianne – "

"I have other plans for Arianne," Doran said in a firm voice.

"You wanted to go north," Oberyn reminded her, his sharp eyes catching hers. "And now you're going north. You wanted to help us avenge the death of your family. With the Starks, you have that opportunity."

Prince Doran's calm façade melted, his eyes worried and imploring as he saw the hurt that she tried so hard to hide. "Although you are not my true daughter, I love you as if you were, Maliya. I made a promise to your dead mother the day I realized you were still alive. I promised I would keep you safe, and while you may not agree with my decision, I hope you can understand it."

Maliya's shoulders slumped as she heaved a sigh, the fight and anger slowly trickling out of her. How was she supposed to argue with him when she could practically feel his love and concern? "So what happens now?" She asked in a begrudging voice. Confusing emotions were clashing through her. She was leaving Dorne and she _might_ have the chance for revenge, but she also would have to marry a Stark.

Did she win this battle? Or lose?

"You will leave the day after tomorrow." Maliya's heart stuttered in her chest and she suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe. "The journey to Winterfell alone will take about two months, so that's four or more months away from Dorne. As much as I would love to be at your wedding, I cannot be away from Dorne for that long. Your uncle will accompany you to Winterfell in my stead."

Maliya surveyed him as he spoke, watching him closely enough to see his slight wince of pain as he shifted in his seat. "Are you in pain again?" She asked softly, the thought causing her stomach to twist fearfully. The thought of her father suffering from some unknown illness that may be bringing him closer to death was a terrifying concept. "Have you spoken to Maester Dallan?"

Prince Doran waved her worry away, another smile crossing his face in an effort to help him change the subject. "Don't be concerned about me. You should spend your time thinking about what you are going to bring with you to Winterfell. I've already asked our best seamstresses to begin making you warmer dresses and cloaks. You should return to your room and begin packing."

"Yes father," Maliya answered quietly, bowing her head slightly before standing.

"Don't look so solemn, Maliya!" Uncle Oberyn cried jovially, his eyes alight with a sense of mischievousness and excitement. "You got what you wanted, did you not? A chance to go north, live your own life and possibly get revenge?"

Maliya knew better than to continue arguing. "Of course, Uncle."

Uncle Oberyn went on, putting an arm around her shoulder and talking about how their trip to Winterfell was going to be her own adventure. Maliya smiled and nodded, tuning him out as they exited the sitting room. She knew that this was the best chance she was ever going to get to avenge her mother and brother.

She also knew that her father and her uncle's decision had been a joint effort to keep her safe, that they didn't really think she would be able to help them in any way.

But she would show them. She would find a way to get her revenge. No matter what it took.

* * *

Arianne was lounging on Maliya's bed, following her movements with worried eyes. Maliya had gone straight to her when their father had informed her that she was to marry. Arianne had been surprised, not only by the suddenness of the marriage but also with whom she was marrying. Usually, with high-ranking and royal families, marriages were made to profit each other, either by land, resources or standing. Winterfell was so far north, that Arianne didn't understand what her father hoped to gain by the marriage.

Maliya was putting on a brave face, but Arianne has known her sister since they adopted her at three years old. Arianne tilted her head to the side, studying her sister as she packed some things from her room. Maliya was several inches taller than her sister, her hair and skin a shade lighter, but her eyes a familiar looking brown. She was a beautiful girl, one that had many suitors chasing after her, but Maliya either didn't notice or didn't care.

"I don't think your new husband would like it if you brought that with you," Arianne commented drily, watching Maliya as she picked up her sword.

There was the low sound of metal ringing as she unsheathed the sword, a light in her eye that Arianne only saw when she was training. She traced the sun engraved on the sword handle. "Uncle Oberyn had this specially made for me three name days ago. It's balanced perfectly to my arm and my strength – I can't just leave it behind."

"Women in the north aren't allowed to fight," Arianne reminded Maliya as she sheathed her sword again, digging through her clothes in the large trunk at the foot of the bed and hiding it on the very bottom.

"Don't you think I know that?" Maliya snapped, straightening and throwing one of her famous glares Arianne's way. When Arianne only raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, Maliya sighed, wiping a weary hand over her face as she shut the lid of the trunk and fell backwards on the bed beside her. "I'm sorry," she murmured softly, looking over at Arianne. "I'm just…."

"I know," Arianne answered sympathetically, brushing a hand reassuringly through Maliya's hair.

"I thought I had prepared for this eventuality," Maliya continued in a low voice. "I'm of marrying age and a princess of the ruling house of Dorne. But the thought of leaving my family behind, of leaving you behind…." She trailed off, shaking her head.

Arianne slowly placed a hand over where Maliya was unconsciously picking her cuticles, a habit that indicated her nervousness. "You'll be alright, 'Liya," Arianne told her with a reassuring yet sad smile. "I don't want you to leave either, but you are strong, smart and beautiful, a deadly combination for any man that makes the mistake of underestimating you." She sighed. "Though I do wish you had taken my advice and had some experience with men before you married."

Maliya wrinkled her noise. "I was four and ten when you introduced me to sex, Ari, and I wanted nothing to do with it. Besides, if I wasn't a maid when I marry this Stark boy, they would call me a whore all throughout Westeros."

"It's no matter," Arianne said dismissively, waving a hand. "You would rather play with swords than with men, which I cannot presume to understand," she added under her breath, causing Maliya's lips to twitch. She pulled Maliya into a sitting position, looking her in the eye with a serious expression and speaking with a hard voice, one that made Maliya's amusement fade. "Listen carefully, little sister, for this advice might just save your life one day. Men think we're the weaker sex because we can be emotional and most of us don't know how to fight. But we have our own weapons, Maliya, and you'll have to start using them. I don't know this Stark boy, but if you want to survive this marriage you may have to use you body to manipulate him. Men, even cold-hearted, emotionless bastards, have a weakness and it hangs between their legs."

"That's the best advice that you will ever receive." Both Maliya and Arianne looked over to see the eldest Sand Snakes entering her room. Tyene was the one who had spoken, a knowing smirk on her lips and a glint in her eye. "You'll already be able to beat a man with one type of sword, but if you learn to handle _the other_ sword, no man will be able to defeat or resist you."

Maliya's face flushed as she grasped what Tyene was implying, causing the rest to laugh at her innocence. "Oh shut up," she muttered, crossing her arms and glaring at them all. "At any moment, one of father's guards is going to march in here and tell me that it's time to leave for Winterfell. Is this how you want to spend your last moments with me?"

Obara snorted. "You make it sound as if you are dying."

"At times, it certainly feels like I am," Maliya muttered under her breath.

"Don't be so dramatic cousin," Nymeria chided, leaning against the bedpost. "We come bearing farewell gifts," she added, pulling a box out from behind her back. Maliya's eyes lit up as she took the box from Nymeria. A low gasp escaped her when she opened it. Inside were two sheathed daggers, one slightly smaller than the other, along with a leather circular object that Maliya picked up curiously. "It's a thigh holster, easily hidden by your dress," Nymeria explained, showing her the buckle and how the larger dagger fit. "No one will know it's there and the only one who will be able to find it would be your husband." She grinned as Tyene waggled her eyebrows suggestively before continuing on. "The smaller dagger can be hidden in your boot, easily accessibly whenever you need it."

"Wow," Maliya breathed, running her fingers over the beautiful daggers lightly. "Thank you, Nym."

Nymeria shrugged unconcernedly though there was a pleased smile on her face. "I'm next!" Tyene announced, stepping forward and playfully elbowing past Nymeria so she stood in front of Maliya. Maliya took the smaller box that she was handed and opened it to reveal two vials, one with a clear liquid and one tinted blue.

"Is this…?"

"The Long Farewell," Tyene answered, nodding. At the slightly unhappy look on Maliya's face, she continued quickly. "I know you think poison is cheap and underhanded, but this poison is very hard to come by and I want you to have all weapons at your disposal when you go north. You never know if you might need it."

"I don't like poison," Maliya agreed, looking down at the vials with distaste. "But I appreciate the thought behind the gift even if I hope that I don't have to use it."

Tyene tilted her head to the side for a moment before a smile crossed her face. "I'll accept that."

Arianne slipped from the bed, an excited look in her eye. "My turn," she told Maliya before striding over to a wardrobe that Maliya had previously thought was empty. Arianne pulled out an object wrapped in a cloth bag. When she unwrapped the bag and tossed it to the side, Maliya's breath caught in her chest. Arianne was holding a beautiful white dress, one that was completely different than anything Maliya had seen before.

"It's a wedding dress," Arianne said, watching her expression nervously. "Could you…. would you mind trying it on so that I can see if it fits?"

Maliya nodded wordlessly, not wanting the other girls to realize how just the sight of this dress terrified her. Arianne helped her out of the sleeveless orange dress, riding pants and boots that she had put on for the journey north. As soon as Arianne pulled the wedding dress over her shoulders, Maliya could tell that this dress was made of a heavier material than the light dresses of Dorne.

Arianne held up a looking glass so that Maliya could see the full effect. The dress felt heavy as well. The sleeves were long and fit as snugly as the bodice of the gown. The collar of the dress went around her neck, but there was an opening where the skin of her chest was visible until it met the material on the top of her breasts. The dress clung to her breasts and stomach, but flared outward when it reached her hips and fell till it hit the floor. An intricate golden pattern swirled over the dress, going up the sleeves and tracing down to the floor. It fit perfectly.

"Oh," Maliya heard Arianne breath when she stepped back to look at her properly. "Oh Maliya. You look absolutely stunning."

"A woman is not meant to wear that much cloth," she overheard Tyene whisper to her sisters.

"She does when she lives in the north," Obara reminded her.

Arianne ignored them, her uncertain eyes still on Maliya. "Do you like it?"

Maliya's throat felt tight, feeling incredibly torn. A part of her loved the dress, which was undeniably beautiful, but the other part still resented the fact that this only reinforced the fact that she was going to be married. "It's beautiful, Ari," she complimented softly. "Did you – did you make this?"

Arianne nodded, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. "Well, I designed it, but in order to finish this in two days I needed some help. I haven't slept more than three hours, but it was all worth it to see you looking like this." She paused. "I know I don't know much about fighting and weapons as our cousins do, but I figured this would be useful to you as well."

"I… I don't know what to say," Maliya murmured, reaching out to grasp Arianne's hand and hoping she could feel the gratitude that she didn't know how to put into words.

"I do," Tyene announced a smirk in her voice as she effectively ruined the moment. "With all that cloth is the way, that Stark boy sure is going to have a difficult time finding your – "

"Alright!" Obara interrupted loudly as Nymeria burst out laughing and Maliya rolled her eyes, throwing her a rude gesture. "You look beautiful, Maliya, a vision in white," she told her younger cousin in a softer voice. "But you should change out of that dress quickly. As you mentioned before, you're leaving any moment and I'm eager to give you my gift."

Maliya nodded, still looking at Arianne and trying to contain her panic. "Would you give us a minute, please?" She asked her Sand Snake cousins.

"Of course," Obara answered graciously, her eyes understanding as she ushered the other two out of the room. "Meet us down by the stables when you are ready."

The door closed behind them and Maliya let out the loud gasp that she had been holding, feeling cold and clammy as her heart hammered against her chest. She couldn't seem to draw in a proper breath. "Get me out of this dress!" She cried in a shrill voice, scrabbling at the high neck of the dress.

"Maliya!" Arianne watched her in shock and alarm for a moment before springing forward to help unlace the back of her dress. "Calm down!" She scolded, racing to help her out of the dress before she ended up tearing it. As soon as Maliya stepped out of the heavy dress, she grabbed a bedpost for support as she stood there, shaking with her eyes closed in just her slip. "What in the seven hells was that?" Arianne gasped, placing the dress on the bed before whirling to face Maliya.

"I'm sorry," Maliya muttered, still trying to take deeper breaths. "I just felt like the dress was suffocating me, like I couldn't breathe – " She broke off at the flash of hurt that crossed Arianne's face. "No, it wasn't the dress, it wasn't too tight!" She hurried to explain, mentally berating herself. "I love the dress, really I do! I don't know what happened."

Arianne's face grew sympathetic as Maliya sat heavily on the bed with a sigh. "You're scared," Arianne guessed, blinking in surprise. "I don't think I ever remember you being scared."

 _I spent the first year in Dorne terrified. Terrified that the Martells would hurt me and then terrified that others would find out who I really was and take me away from them._

Maliya wavered, not knowing if she should tell Arianne the truth. Even though she had wanted part of this, she was finding the emotions of leaving and the fear of the unknown a lot harder to deal with. "I know how to fight. I can sometimes understand politics and I understand how to be a Princess of Dorne. But all the rest… Living in the north, getting married, having sex with my husband - "

"Bearing children," Arianne supplied unhelpfully. Maliya blanched, considering for the first time that she would have to provide children to the one of the traitors to her family. "Whoa, Maliya?" Arianne asked in alarm, steadying Maliya as she swayed alarmingly.

"I am not old enough to be a mother," Maliya told her in a small voice, her face pale.

Arianne slipped an arm around Maliya's shoulders. "I know it may seem that way, sweet sister," she murmured in a quiet voice. "But women all over Westeros are having children at your age, it's an unfortunate fact of the world that we live in. You're a kind, wonderful person, 'Liya, you'll be a great mother."

"Will you come visit me?" Maliya asked, turning to Arianne with an almost desperate look in her eye, hating herself for sounding exactly how she felt - young and scared.

"Of course," Arianne smiled, pulling Maliya closer so her head rested on her shoulder. "Your flame burns bright, Maliya. Don't let the bitter wind of the north blow it out."

"Thank you," Maliya whispered in a thick voice. "Thank you for the dress, thank you for being my sister and thank you for loving me."

"There is no reason for thanks," Arianne assured her, taking her hands and pulling her up so she was standing. "Now come. We mustn't keep our cousins waiting – who knows what mischief they will get up to while they wait."

Maliya felt like herself as soon as her Dornish dress was on once more. She took the gifts from Tyene and Nymeria and hid them in the bottom of her trunk along with her sword and waited while Arianne carefully put the wedding dress away. "Sometimes I wish I were a man," Maliya admitted, making Arianne give a very unlady-like snort. "Then I wouldn't have to learn embroidery or the proper way to speak, I wouldn't bleed out of private places every month and have cramps that make me wish I was dead. I wouldn't have to leave my home in order to get married and men wouldn't look at me either as a good fuck or the future mother to their children."

"Oh Maliya," Arianne chuckled as they headed out of her room. "I am going to miss the positive way you see the world," she teased sarcastically. "You should learn to embrace your feminine side and use your sexuality to your advantage."

Maliya shook her head. "I'm not as ambitious as you, Arianne. I have no wish to rule." _Just to kill the family that does._

"It's true," Arianne admitted. "I want to inherit father's seat on Sunspear. I am the eldest and his heir, therefore I should be the one to rule. But you don't have to only use your power as a woman to rule. You can use it for most anything."

"I'll keep that in mind," Maliya said with an affectionate smile, nodding at the servants who paused to bow or curtsy as they passed. "I have all the advice that you have given me stored in the back of my head. Sometimes it seems as though your voice is my conscience."

"As it should be," Arianne laughed, linking their arms together. A mischievous glint lit her eyes as she glanced at Maliya. "You know, I've asked around about your husband-to-be ever since I found out you were to marry him. They say he's _very_ handsome."

Maliya rolled her eyes at the suggestive tone to her voice. "And who is 'they'?" Maliya asked in a dry tone, feeling both exasperated and grateful at her sister's need to know everything.

"Just people here and there," Arianne answered vaguely, waving her hand. "If the rumors are true, then this is good news, Maliya! It is so much easier to have good sex with a man you are attracted to. It is true that the first time hurts for a woman, but as you practice and learn each other's bodies the experiences you two will have can be very pleasurable – "

"Arianne – " Maliya tried to interrupt, shaking her head. She knew that her sister and cousins were very free and open with their sex lives, but she was tired of hearing about it.

"All I'm saying, 'Liya, is that you may be lucky. If this boy is as kind and honorable as they say, you may be one of the lucky ones and end up falling in love with him. As your older sister and your friend, this is what I hope for you."

Maliya wanted to tell her that she was going to be using her future husband and his family for information, not for pleasure or for love. She wished that she could tell Arianne everything. Who she really was and what Prince Doran and Oberyn had done to save her. But she knew the risks. If the ruling family found out she was alive, they would try to kill her. Arianne would be in danger just for being associated with her.

"I hope so too," Maliya lied with a smile.

"Finally!" Obara cried as they approached the stables. "Alright, you can bring him out!" She called into the open doorway.

"Him?" Maliya questioned curiously.

"You're going to like this gift," Obara told her proudly. "I promise."

Maliya saw movement coming from the stable and her jaw dropped as Nymeria and Tyene led out one of the most magnificent horses she had ever seen. His hair and coat were a beautiful black color, his neck was long and his head narrow. It was slightly smaller than a regular warhorse and right away Maliya knew what kind of horse this was. "Is that a – "

"Dornish sand steed," Obara finished, grinning at the flabbergasted look on Maliya's face. "He's young, only a year or two old, but he was trained from an early age by one of Dorne's best trainers. He's not strong enough to carry a fully armored man, but this boy can run for a full day and night and never tire," she boasted, patting the horse on the back. "I do believe he needs a name."

"You mean he's mine?" Maliya gasped, wonder written on her face.

"He's yours," Obara laughed, stepping away as Maliya approached.

She felt oddly nervous as she approached the beautiful horse. She took a deep breath to calm herself and tired to remember everything Obara had taught her about horses. Maliya began to walk slowly towards the horse from the side so he could see her. When she stepped up next to his head and held her hand out for him to sniff, he eyed her warily before lowering his nose to her hand. She grinned as he snuffled her hand before stepping closer and reaching out to pat his neck. She pet him slowly and carefully, letting him get used to the feel and smell of her before moving around by his head. A memory surfaced from when she was younger, a memory of Obara when she first taught her how to approach a horse. _'Horses greet each other by breathing on the other's nose.'_ Maliya exhaled onto his nose softly, laughing lightly when he blew back into her face, causing her hair to fly behind her.

"You remembered," Obara smiled quietly, watching them interact. "What are you going to name him? I find it's easier if you don't over think it. What's the first name that comes to mind?"

"Shadow," Maliya answered immediately, looking surprised at her choice but feeling that it fit perfectly.

"Shadow," Obara repeated, testing the name. "A bit cliché, but a good name all the same."

"Are you going to ride him?" Tyene asked excitedly.

"Without a saddle?" Arianne frowned.

"She doesn't need one," Obara smirked, watching as Maliya grabbed a fistful of Shadow's hair at the base of his neck and did a sort of running skip, jumping with all her strength and swinging her right leg over his back, twisting slightly until she was in a sitting position.

Arianne blinked in surprise. "Wow. That was… very impressive."

Maliya grinned down at them, the excitement rushing through her veins as she tightened her hold in Shadow's mane and pressed her heels into his side. She felt his powerful muscles bunching underneath him before he leapt forward into a run. An exhilarated laugh escaped her as Shadow demonstrated his speed, making her hair whip behind her as he practically flew over the ground.

She marveled at how easily Shadow responded to her touch as she experimented a couple of turns and commands. He was trained very well, that much was apparent. Maliya could feel his eagerness to run, so she squeezed her heels together once more. "Come on, Shadow," she urged in his ear, her enthusiasm quickly matching his. "Show me what you can do." Her grin widened as he broke into a gallop and reached his full speed.

Besides the hours she spent training, Maliya was hard pressed to find a time when she had felt freer than she did in that exact moment. The warm wind was making her hair and dress stream behind her and the adrenaline was pumping through her veins making her feel invincible as her body moved in time with Shadow's.

As she guided Shadow into a turn and headed back towards the stables, she saw a young boy of one and ten making his way to stand next to Arianne and the others. A genuine smile crossed her face as she slowed Shadow down. Her younger brother Trystane was staring up at her with wide, awe-filled eyes. Maliya had a special place in her heart for Trystane. He had been born two years after Maliya had arrived in Sunspear, and unlike Arianne, he did not remember life without her. Arianne, on the other hand, was old enough to remember Maliya's arrival, knew she wasn't Doran's true daughter and had asked a lot of questions growing up.

Maliya had learned from an early age to stick to what Doran had told her. For Arianne, all he had told her was that Maliya was part of the family now and allowed Arianne to draw her own conclusions. Arianne probably thought Maliya was Doran's bastard. For the public, all they knew was that Maliya had a fever and an illness after she was born and it wasn't until she had reached her third name day did she become healthy once more. As far as Maliya knew, everyone had accepted her presence gracefully and without complaint.

"Wow," Trystane breathed, the wind ruffling his black curls so he had to push them back away from his face. "Is that your horse?"

Maliya slid off of Shadow, patting his neck appreciatively – he wasn't even breathing heavily. "It is," Maliya answered as she tousled his hair once more, her grin widening as he slapped her hand away in annoyance. "Obara got him for me as a farewell gift. Isn't he magnificent?"

"A farewell gift?" Trystane repeated, his face crumpling into a crestfallen frown.

"Is something the matter?" Maliya asked, looking at him in concern.

He shuffled on his feet, looking sheepish. "I didn't get you a gift."

"Oh," Maliya exclaimed, feeling relieved that this was all it was. "I don't need a gift, you sweet boy," she murmured, pulling him closer. "All I need is one of your infamous hugs to remember you by."

"Maliya!" Trystane grumbled in embarrassment, his face flushing red as he glanced at his older cousins, who were watching the scene with smiles on their faces.

"Oh hush," she chided. "It may be the last hug I give you in a long while. Would you rather it happen now in front of family or later in front of all of Sunspear when I leave?" A smug grin spread across her face as he obliged and hugged her. She fondly ran a hand over his curls as his arms tightened, almost unable to believe how much he had grown in the past year. Just a few more inches and he would be as tall as her. Trystane, the boy who would convince her to steal pies from the kitchens was disappearing and the man, Prince Trystane of Dorne, was taking his place.

Her heart ached with sadness. More like than not, Maliya was going to miss seeing the man that he turned out to be.

Trystane suddenly pulled back, an excited look on his face. "I have an idea. I'll be back soon!"

They watched him run off and there was a short moment of confused silence before Arianne spoke. "We should head back as well. They would have collected your things by now, and the procession will be starting soon," she told them, waving one of the stable hands over as she spoke. "Have Maliya's horse saddled and brought over to the Old Palace," she ordered. The stable hand bowed and led Shadow away.

Overwhelmed by all the emotions she was currently feeling – sadness, love, gratitude, grief, fear – Maliya pulled a disgruntled Obara into a hug and then proceeded to hug each of her cousins in turn. Nymeria smiled at her and Tyene rolled her eyes, but none of them rejected her or pushed her away. "Thank you," Maliya told them sincerely, putting a hand over her heart. "Thank you for the generous and thoughtful gifts and thank you for teaching me everything you know."

"You will always be an honorary Sand Snake," Nymeria told her. "No matter how far north you travel." Maliya was horrified once more as her throat felt tight – those words meant more to her than they would ever know.

Tyene peered at her, looking both incredulous and confused. "Are you…. are you going to cry?"

Maliya sent her an affronted glare. "Of course not, Ty. When was the last time that you have ever seen me shed a tear?" Tyene paused to think on it and Maliya gave her a smug look. "Precisely. Tears are a weakness that men can use against us. You are the one that taught me that, Obara," she added, nodding to her cousin.

Tyene smirked, a hand on her hip. "That is such a close-minded view. We can also use our tears to manipulate men into giving us what we want. There is many a man who would say yes to anything so long as we stop crying."

Maliya could personally attest to that. For such a fearsome fighter, Tyene was very feminine and used her innocent persona to her advantage. Nobody would be able to guess that she could kill them in less than a minute. This meant that she was constantly underestimated, but Tyene preferred it this way. Maliya, on the other hand, knew she was being underestimated but it made her grind her teeth in frustration.

"Look who's here," Arianne said, nudging her arm. Maliya looked over to see two of her father's guards standing on the edge of the field, watching her expectantly. Arianne's face was solemn as she spoke once more. "It's time."

A short while later, Maliya was standing on the steps of the Old Palace surrounded by her family. A horse drawn wheelhouse was waiting for her at the bottom along with Shadow and numerous Martell guards on horseback. A colorfully dressed crowd of her Dornish people lined the streets, cheering and waving, hoping for a glimpse of the royal family.

"Listen to them," her father murmured, watching the crowd with a light in his eyes. "They love you, Maliya. They will be sad to see you go, but they are proud that you are helping Dorne's alliance with the northern territory of Westeros."

"Are you speaking for them or for you, father?" Maliya asked knowingly. He smiled at her and she knew she had her answer. "Will I be able to visit, after I'm married?" She asked in a casual voice.

"Of course," her father answered immediately. "But that will have to be a decision that you and your new husband agree on."

Maliya wrinkled her nose. "I can already guess that will get annoying really fast," she muttered under her breath.

Prince Doran laughed. "It is a part of marriage as you will soon learn. It may take a while to get used to the idea, but I know that you will be a great wife." _I wouldn't be so sure,_ she thought sourly. There was a sad smile on his face as he pulled her into a hug. Maliya wrapped her arms tightly around her waist, closing her eyes as she rested her head on his chest. She took one last moment away from the world and allowed herself a moment of weakness. Her heart ached as she breathed in the familiar scent of her father for what would be the last time in a long time. Memories of him flashed through her mind – comforting her when she would have nightmares as a child, teaching her about the history of the world and always the love and pride in his eyes when he looked at her. Her real parents may have died, but Maliya was infinitely lucky to have grown up and learned from a man like Prince Doran.

When they pulled away, Maliya was composed once more with a dutiful smile on her face. "I'll miss you, father."

"I'll miss you too, sweet girl," he answered, putting a hand on her cheek. "I wish you the best with your marriage. I know the prospect of an arranged marriage isn't the most romantic notion, but just know that just because we want to choose who we marry, it doesn't mean it will always last." There was sadness in his eyes as he said this and she knew he was thinking of his estranged wife, Mellario. They had met many years ago when he was abroad, had fallen in love, gotten married and then came back to Dorne. Mellario birthed Arianne, Quentyn and Trystane, but she left when Maliya was still young. Doran couldn't tell her who Maliya was, and she accused him of sleeping with a whore and trying to raise the bastard as a royal. She was also angry and upset because Doran had sent Quentyn away when he was young to be fostered by another family. Mellario couldn't forgive him for this and ended up leaving him to go back to her home in Norvos. The whole thing affected her father more than he outwardly showed. "Write me when you arrive safely in Winterfell," He added, smiling down at her as he stepped back.

"I will," she promised before moving down the line.

Trystane was standing next to their father, his hands behind his back as he stared up at her almost shyly. "I got you something," he murmured softly, looking uncertain. He hesitated, then pulled a long rectangular box out from behind his box and thrust it at her.

Maliya looked down at it in, her eyebrows rising in surprise. It was a very familiar looking box, the edges and colors worn from years of use. "Your cyvasse game?" Maliya exclaimed, shock coloring her tone. "Are you giving this to me?"

Trystane nodded, his curls bouncing. "I didn't know what else to give you. You can teach your new family the game and then every time you play maybe it will help you remember me," he added, shuffling in slight embarrassment.

"Oh Trystane, you silly boy," Maliya chuckled, pulling him into a hug. This time he didn't protest, "Thank you for the game, I know how much you love it. But even though I love it, I won't need it to remember you. You're my younger brother, how can I forgot an obnoxious little pest like you?" She teased fondly. She felt his arms wrap around her back tightly before he stepped back, his little face composed as a prince's should be. She was proud of him – he was going to grow to be a great prince.

Arianne and the Sand Snakes were next. "Goodbye for now, sister," Arianne murmured, pulling Maliya into a tight hug. "I know we'll see each other again soon. I'm proud of you. Be brave," she added in a whisper so the others wouldn't hear.

"I love you," Maliya told her before reluctantly letting go and stepping back. Arianne's beautiful brown eyes were shining with tears as she smiled at her. She sniffed lightly and wrapped a reassuring arm about Trystane.

Maliya hugged each of the Sand Snakes, thanking them again for everything. They each gave her one last piece of advice.

"Trust no one but yourself," Obara warned with a solemn face. "Life is different up in the north – there are more secrets, lies and manipulations."

"Always keep a weapon on you," Nymeria whispered in her ear. "They never think to check your boot."

Tyene hugged her the tightest, the usual smirk on her face not quite covering the sorrowful look in her eyes. When she pulled back, she left two hands on Maliya's shoulders, making sure she caught Maliya's gaze before she began to speak. "I know you think that I'm… overly promiscuous. Don't be afraid to use my experiences if you feel you need to. I know how most men can be with women – they think they can own us, that they're superior to us just because of what's between their legs. Don't let them control you, Maliya," Tyene whispered furiously. "Never forget who you are and where you came from."

Maliya knew Tyene's comment was innocent. She meant Maliya's life as a Martell, of course, but when Maliya heard those words, it wasn't the Martell's she was thinking of. It was her mother and brother that appeared in her mind, the Targaryen family that had been cruelly ripped from her life.

Though she looked like a Martell, Maliya was a dragon. And it was something she would never forget.

"Thank you, Tyene," Maliya smiled at her gratefully. "I won't be quick to forget the advice you have given me, even the disturbing details that I wish I had never heard."

Tyene's smirk widened at her words as she stepped back. With an aching heart, she smiled down at the line of people that were her family. She realized, with a surprising jolt, that there was a small part of her that didn't want to leave. Her home here was safe, there were no unknowns and the people loved her. But deep down inside, she knew it was time to move on.

"Are you ready, Princess?" Maliya turned at the man's voice and saw Uncle Oberyn, grinning up at her. He was dressed in traditional Dornish clothes, sitting astride his red horse, looking both casual and regal, as if this was just any other day. Maliya felt a rush of affection toward him. This whole elaborate process – the heartfelt goodbyes, the Dornish crowds cheering as they lined the streets – only served to make her feel weary and slightly depressed. She wanted this to be over and done with.

Holding her head high and placing a smile on her lips, Maliya gracefully walked down the steps of the Old Palace and headed to where Uncle Oberyn was waiting, holding Shadow's reins. She gave the cyvasse game to a guard to put away and took the reins from her uncle, placing a foot in the stirrup and swinging herself up into the saddle. Not for the first time she appreciated Dorne's customs. The people of Dorne didn't care that she chose to ride a horse, unlike the rest of the Westeros, where a Princess would be shut up in the wheelhouse. It was currently holding all of her possessions, but Maliya knew that as they left Dorne and approached Winterfell, she would need to stay in there.

Uncle Oberyn signaled the front of the procession and as the horses began to walk, Maliya lifted her hand and waved to her family one last time. She caught the tears spilling down Arianne's cheeks, the sad look in Trystane's eyes and the sad smile on her father's face. A bittersweet feeling filled her, pressing down on her shoulders and seeping through her insides as she turned her back on her old life and began walking forward to her new one.

* * *

The journey to Winterfell was _long_ , longer than she had even realized despite everyone's warnings. When they had first left Dorne, it had been Maliya's first time leaving stepping foot outside since she had been brought there at the age of three. There was a sense of wonder and excitement buzzing through her as she surveyed the unusual landscapes and people. The weather was different, the trees and flowers and cultures as well, and Maliya took it all in with wide eyes. They traveled through the Prince's Pass and then further north, giving King's Landing a wide berth.

The whole journey took over two months. By the time they were halfway there, Maliya was torn between wanting to delay the journey and in turn, her marriage. She was enjoying the casual, laidback aspect of their trip. There were no political obligations to worry about and she felt relieved to not feel like a Princess for a while. She and Uncle Oberyn spent a lot of time together, talking. He talked to her a lot about her mother and his childhood growing up with her and Doran. In the evening, when they had stopped traveling for the day, they would spar if they weren't spending the night in a town. Most nights, they would find an empty clearing and set up some tents.

The other half of her, the half that had a sore bum and thighs from riding a horse or bouncing along in the wheelhouse, longed for a proper bath and a comfortable bed.

She missed the bright, cheerful colors of Dorne. But she also missed the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore, the smell of the salt water that would drift through her windows and the heat of the sun warming her skin.

The further north they traveled, the colder the air grew, until the bitterness of it ate through her clothes and tried to reach her very bones. She had to change into the warmer dresses that her father made for her, along with leather gloves and a heavy cloak. It may have just been her imagination, but up north it seemed like the world was leeched of all color. The skies were gray and the grass and trees seemed to only be a dark green or brown.

She felt like she was growing colder as well as they drew closer to Winterfell. Uncle Oberyn shot her concerned glances as she drew further and further into herself. Her face was blank and emotionless most of the time, and to protect herself from the rest of the people of Westeros she pictured her heart becoming as cold as the stone walls of the castle that she was currently looking at.

"Winterfell," Uncle Oberyn announced unnecessarily. There was a small town on the outskirts of the wall that spanned over several acres. Several tall buildings peeped up over the walls, gray like the color of the sky. There were two protective walls around the castle, the inner one slightly larger than the outer, which had guard turrets along the top. It was larger than she had expected, but still smaller than the Old Palace of Dorne. "Come Maliya," he said gently. "It's time to meet your future husband."

Stifling a heavy sigh, Maliya nodded solemnly and slid off of Shadow's back, before shutting herself up in the wheelhouse and lacing her fingers on her lap, her appearance calm. She was a Princess of Dorne and daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. She could do this.

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

Robb stood with his hands behind his back, staring down through the window with a grave expression on his face. Any day now, his betrothed would be entering through the front gate of Winterfell and just a couple days later, they would be husband and wife. The thought caused a bitter taste in his mouth.

There was a soft knock at the door and the sound of footsteps walking across the floor. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw his mother standing next to him, looking up at him with concern and a hint of understanding. "The guards on the gate have spotted the Martell banners approaching. We should head down to the Keep and receive our guests." At the unrelenting, stony look on his face, his mother sighed. "Look Robb, I know you are not pleased with the prospect of an arranged marriage. I went through the same thing when I was your age."

Robb clenched his teeth. He had heard this story before. He loved his parents and admired the relationship that they had built. A part of him, however, had this notion that he would love his wife when he married, or at least have met her before the wedding. This same part of him resented his parents for springing this marriage on him and then expecting him to be alright with it. "I know my duties as the heir of Winterfell," he informed her, his voice emotionless.

"This alliance with the Martells bridges a rift formed six and ten years ago during Robert's Rebellion; it benefits both our houses."

"Yes," he mused quietly. "Political gains come before love when you're in a position of power."

His mother sent him a sharp look. "Although you don't know each other now, you and your betrothed can work to find a healthy level of respect that may develop into love. Your father and I built our love slowly, stone by stone over the years. The same can happen to you and your future wife if you put in the effort." She paused, and Robb tried to school his expression into one of polite indifference instead of the momentous doubt that he was currently feeling. "I hear she's quite beautiful – "

"We should go," Robb interrupted suddenly, turning to face her. She blinked up at him in surprise. "You said she was arriving shortly, did you not?"

There was a resigned look on her face, and his anger prickled once more when he thought he saw disappointment in his reaction. She sighed yet again. "Your father and I are proud of the man that you have become Robb. You are a good brother, a role model to your brothers and sisters and you have a sense of duty and honor that cannot be taught. I know you will make a good husband." Those last words coupled with the narrowing of her eyes was a clear warning. An implied _or else…_ sounded in the back of his head.

Before he could respond, an excited young girl of three and ten walked quickly into the room, her blue Tully eyes alight with excitement. "What are you still doing up here?" Sansa gasped, striding across the room as quickly as her lady-like restraint would allow. She looped her arm through his and began to pull him out of the room. "They're opening the gates already! Oh, I still can't believe that you are to marry a princess, Robb!" Robb was torn between exasperation and amusement at the animation in her voice. His sister had dreamed of marrying a handsome prince ever since she was a little girl. When she heard of Robb's betrothal, she nearly squealed with excitement. "I bet she's beautiful," Sansa sighed.

Sansa had this romantic notion of love and married life, and Robb was loath to introduce her to the harsh reality of the real world. "I'm sure she's lovely," Robb told her, unable to help the fond smile that crossed his face at her answering grin.

"Do you think she'll like my dress?" Sansa asked, glancing down worriedly. "Maybe I should have worn my blue dress instead – "

"Stop fretting, Sansa," Robb interrupted, placing a reassuring hand on top of hers. "You look beautiful. I feel as if you are more nervous to meet my future wife than I am," he joked, chuckling.

Robb was then knocked off balance as Arya sprinted past them, Bran closely on her heels. She was holding one of Bran's boots in her hand, laughing loudly as Bran slipped and slid down the hall, yelling after her. "Arya!" Sansa hissed, her surprised eyes narrowing in outrage at her younger sister's behavior. "What in the seven hells do you think you're doing – " Her voice trailed off as both Arya and Bran disappeared around a corner.

Robb couldn't help but chuckle at his siblings' antics, feeling momentarily better than he had ever since he learned of his betrothal. Even though it felt like his entire life was changing, it was reassuring to know that his family would always remain the same. Sansa excused herself and hurried after them, a determined but furious expression on her face that would only serve to provoke Arya further.

By the time he reached the keep where they would greet the Martells, his family was already in line and waiting, though he could still hear Sansa and Arya bickering under their breath. Bran had both boots on and little Rickon was shifting back and forth on both feet, unable to stay still for too long. His father looked Robb over carefully as he approached before giving him an approving nod. Robb nodded back and took his place between his mother and Sansa, glancing over his shoulder to where Jon and Theon waited patiently behind them.

Jon had his brooding face on as was customary for him, but Theon gave him a wicked smirk and waggled his eyebrows. Robb rolled his eyes and looked forward again, remembering their conversations from earlier. Theon had been enlightening him on the promiscuity of the women from Dorne, poking fun at the fact that his wife will be more experienced than he in bed. Robb had to restrain himself from punching his friend in the face as he offered to give Robb tips so he didn't appear to be a blushing virgin on their wedding night.

Robb was startled from his thoughts as the gates began to open and several Guards on horses rode through, carrying the Martell banner, which was a red sun pierced by a yellow spear on an orange background. The guards parted and another man on a red horse appeared, a wheelhouse following behind him. The man looked around Winterfell and scanned the line of people waiting to greet them with a casual smile on his face, but Robb could see the sharp, calculating look in his eyes. He was an impressive man with an air of confidence about him. Robb knew that this must be Prince Oberyn.

He dismounted from his horse gracefully, handing the reins over to one of his guards before moving around to the side of the wheelhouse and opening the door. A smaller hand lightly grasped his, and Robb's shoulders stiffened as he got his first look at the woman that was to be his wife. He kept his expression blank as they approached, but his eyes took in all the details.

She was a thin girl, several inches shorter than him, the top of her head reaching just under his chin. Her black hair fell into ringlets down her back and her skin had an olive tone to it. Her nose was small and her lips were full. Robb wasn't blind; it was more than apparent that his future wife was a beautiful girl, probably one of the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen. He watched as her brown eyes swept across the keep, casually moving down the line of his family before coming to rest on him.

Her eyes were strangely emotionless and there was no flicker of recognition on her face as she looked at him. It was at that moment that Robb came to realize that his wife wanted this marriage just as much as he did – which was not at all.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Maliya/Robb interactions are coming up next chapter! What would you guys like to see happen?**

To my guest reviewers:

Kristina - Thanks so much for your review! I wish Rhaenys had lived as well, I think that there's so much that could have been done with her character. I'm so glad you like my interpretation of her so far, I hope I'm able to meet all your expectations!

Guest 1 - Thanks for your review! I'm sorry you didn't agree with the Rhaenys look a likes murder, but this is Game of Thrones! No one is safe, not even children.

Guest 2 - Thanks so much for your thoughtful review! I'm glad you think my story is interesting so far. Her brother will come back into the story and you'll find out what happened to him but not for much later :)

Guest 3 - Thanks! I agree that this type of love story might have been done before but I hope I'm able to keep your interest. I appreciate reading your opinions :)


	3. Impressions

**Author's Note: Hello, wonderful readers! I'm continually blown away by your responses to my story, and I can only hope that this chapter and the chapters to come will meet all your expectations! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed my story!**

 **Special thanks to Maddie Rose for beta-ing this chapter!**

 **Without further ado, enjoy this next chapter! Don't forget to leave a review :)**

* * *

Chapter 3: Impressions

 **Maliya's POV**

Maliya trailed a short distance behind Uncle Oberyn as he casually approached the Starks, a lazy smile on his lips. Not for the first time, Maliya envied his ability to be at such ease in even the most stressful situations. She tightly laced her fingers together in front of her, attempting to put a pleasant expression on her face as she reluctantly moved forward to meet her new family.

Seven people stood in a line with varying expressions on their faces. Without even realizing it, Maliya's eyes moved down the line as she sought out her future husband, tuning out her Uncle as he talked with the Starks. When her eyes fell on him, she found that he was already watching her. Surprise flickered through her when she realized his face was just as guarded as hers.

 _You can do this,_ Maliya coached herself, taking a deep breath. _You can pretend to play the dutiful Princess… and eventually, the dutiful wife._ The thought made her feel like she was about to retch.

Before she could examine him too closely, her uncle called her over. "Maliya!" There was a wide grin on his face as he gestured for her to come closer, placing a hand on her back when she stopped next to him. "I would like you to meet the Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark. Lord Stark, this is my niece, Princess Maliya Martell of Dorne."

Maliya dipped into a low curtsey. "It is a pleasure to meet you, My Lord. Your home is lovely," she lied with the smile still on her face. The drab color of the castle and its surroundings could not compare to the vibrancy of her home in Dorne. Even the clothing here had no color. The Stark family wore varying shades of black, brown and gray that made her feel depressed by just looking at it.

Lord Stark was tall, with a long face, shoulder length brown hair and gray eyes. His expression seemed cold and distant until a small smile lit his face as he looked at her. Inclining his head in a bow, he said, "Thank you, My Lady. I hope that you will be happy here in Winterfell and will one day be able to call it your home."

"As do I, My Lord," Maliya nodded agreeably, hoping her smile didn't seem as forced as it felt. "Perhaps one day."

"May I introduce my wife, Catelyn Stark?" Lord Stark introduced, looking over at the woman next to him with warm eyes.

The elder woman curtsied, bowing her head so the top of her long auburn hair was visible. When she straightened, Maliya was looking upon the face of a beautiful woman with vibrant blue eyes, eyes that were surveying her critically, her lips pressed together in a thin smile. Amusement spread through Maliya. It was more than apparent that Lady Stark had more reservations about her presence than her husband did. Perhaps she had been against an arranged marriage for her son. Well, she wasn't the only one. "Welcome to Winterfell, My Lady," Lady Stark greeted in a stiff, formal voice. "I hope the journey from Dorne wasn't too terrible."

"Not at all, Lady Stark. It was my first time being away from Dorne and I found the experience both fascinating and exhilarating." This, for once, was the truth.

"That is reassuring to hear," Lady Stark smiled. Her hesitation was barely noticeable as she turned to her eldest son. "This is my firstborn, Robb, and your betrothed."

Maliya continued down the line and looked up for the first time into the face of her future husband. It took all of her training as a Princess of Dorne not to let her shock show on her face. Her first thought was that the rumors Arianne had heard were correct – Robb Stark was indeed very handsome. His skin was light, like the few people she had seen living in the North, something that she supposed she would have to get used to. He obviously took after his mother's side of his family. His dark auburn curls were cut close to his head and his piercing blue eyes seemed to stare straight through her. He was a couple inches taller than her, with a strong jaw and broad shoulders. His face was solemn, his lips unsmiling as he looked down at her, murmuring, "Princess." His deep voice, with his strange, northern accent that washed over her as he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

One corner of Maliya's lips lifted. "We are to be married, My Lord," she told him drily, pointedly ignoring the strange fluttering sensation in her stomach as he kissed her hand. "Please, call me Maliya. The use of royal titles sounds so impersonal, does it not?"

"Of course, Prin – Maliya," Robb corrected, inclining his head. He still wasn't smiling. _If this is his personality, it is going to be a very long marriage indeed,_ Maliya thought with a sigh. "You may call me Robb."

Unsure of what else to say to him, Maliya gladly moved out from under his unwavering gaze and continued down the line, a small smile crossing her face as she stopped in front of a young girl with bright auburn hair, her blue eyes positively brimming with excitement. "Sansa Stark, My Lady," the girl greeted before Maliya could speak.

She dipped into such a low curtsy that Maliya feared she would fall over. Maliya reached out to grab her hands and pull her up again. "It's wonderful to meet you, Sansa," Maliya smiled. "Please call me Maliya."

Sansa flushed a bright red, looking surprised. "Truly?"

"Truly," Maliya answered, squeezing her hands once more before letting go. "We are to be sisters, you and I."

"You talk funny." Maliya looked to Sansa's right to see a small girl with dark brown hair and her father's grey eyes.

The smile dropped from Sansa's face in the blink of an eye, a furious snarl on her lips as she shot a glare at her young sister. "Arya!" She hissed, appalled.

"What?" The young girl asked, sounding defensive and defiant. "She does talk – ow! Did you just pinch me?"

"Girls!" Both of them stopped arguing at their mother's reprimand and faced front with Arya throwing a heated look at Sansa whose face was flushed red to the tips of her ears.

"I am _so_ sorry – " Sansa muttered, wide eyes on the ground.

"It's quite alright," Maliya interrupted softly, putting her hands behind her back and moving her gaze to the younger girl as she stopped in front of her. She put on what she liked to call her 'no-nonsense' look – she used it on Trystane whenever he was being a little prick and it seemed to have the same effect on the youngest female Stark. Arya boldly stared up at Maliya's hardened face for a couple of seconds before shifting awkwardly and dropping her gaze. It was only then that Maliya spoke. She leaned forward as if she were about to share a secret. "You know, in Dorne your accent would be considered strange and people would think you talk funny."

Arya opened her mouth and then closed it in confusion, as if she couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she was the one who was strange. Maliya allowed herself a small smile. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Arya," Maliya said to her before moving down the line again, stopping in front of a young boy who looked to be a year or two younger than Trystane. "And you are?"

"Brandon Stark," he announced, taking her offered hand and pumping it up and down firmly. Maliya could have sworn that she saw Sansa raise an embarrassed hand to her forehead. "But you can call me Bran."

Maliya couldn't help but feel amused. "That's quite a strong handshake you've got there, Bran."

"Thanks!" Bran grinned, puffing out his chest. "Robb and Jon have been teaching me sword fighting."

"Really?" Maliya raised her eyebrows, showing him that she was impressed. "I'm sure they're wonderful teachers, but if you would like I'm sure my Uncle Oberyn would be able to give you a few additional tips. Isn't that right, Uncle?"

Her Uncle smiled graciously, looking as if nothing would please him greater. "Of course!" He nodded, winking at Bran. "I can teach you a few of my secret moves - "

"Can I come too?" Arya interrupted eagerly, almost bouncing on her toes in her excitement.

"Arya!"

"Shut up, Sansa, that's the Red Viper!" Arya hissed in a loud whisper. "He's one of the best fighters in all of Westeros! Oh please, father, can I go too?"

"Arya," Lord Stark sighed in a voice tinged with both exasperation and amusement. "We will speak of this later." Arya opened her mouth to argue once more but he silenced her with a look and she quietly stepped back into line.

"I would be honored to train with you, Prince Oberyn," Bran smiled, sounding every bit like a little lord.

"Wonderful," he answered, as Maliya finally reached the end of the Stark line. Standing as close to Bran as possible was an adorable little boy, who was looking down at the ground so all she could see was his mop of unruly brown curls.

"And who might you be?" Maliya asked in a soft voice, crouching down so she was at his level. He peered up at her, showing her a flash of his bright eyes as he mumbled something under his breath.

Bran looked down at his little brother and nudged him forward. "Speak up," he urged gently.

"Rickon," the little boy murmured in a slightly louder voice.

"It's nice to meet you, Rickon," Maliya smiled, lightly shaking his hand. "Do you know who I am?"

Rickon nodded shyly. "You're the Princess that's going to marry my brother." He seemed encouraged by the smile on her face and continued. "Theon says that Robb is lucky because you probably know more about bedroom activities than he does." Rickon looked up at her with confusion. "Was he talking about playing games? Can you teach me – "

"Rickon!" His mother gasped, hurrying over with wide eyes and placing both hands on his shoulders, drawing him back to her. Maliya blinked, feeling stunned by the sudden turn of events and realized her mouth was hanging open slightly. A cough that sounded suspiciously like it was covering up a laugh came from Maliya's right and she looked over to see her future husband struggling to maintain a straight face. "I am so sorry, My Lady – "

"Theon!" Lord Stark thundered, his face cold and intimidating once more as he glared over his shoulder. Maliya rose from where she was crouched on the ground, shutting her mouth and looking over with curiosity to see a young man around her age come forward from behind the Starks with his head down in dismay. Lord Stark shoved him forward another step until he stood in front of Maliya. "Apologize to the Princess for your crass and rude words."

"I'm very sorry for my behavior," Theon muttered humbly. "It won't happen again."

When Lord Stark looked towards his wife, Theon quickly glanced up at Maliya, a small smirk on his lips as he winked at her. Maliya raised her eyebrows at his audacity, but the wink was so quick that she wondered if she had imagined it.

"This is Theon Greyjoy, My Lady, a ward of Winterfell." Lord Stark told her, glancing at the boy in disappointment. "I can assure you that he will be punished for his actions."

"Maybe Theon would like to join Bran and I at our training session," Uncle Oberyn announced, striding over to stand next to Maliya, his brown eyes calculating as he stared down at Theon. There was always something in Uncle Oberyn's eyes that intimidated almost anyone that he wished. It was a tactic that she admired, except when it was directed at her. Theon didn't seem to be immune either. The cocky smirk was definitely gone as Theon withered underneath Oberyn's gaze. "What do you say, Greyjoy? Shall we see if the Kraken can withstand the heat of the Sun?"

Maliya fought not to roll her eyes at her Uncle's antics. She cast her eyes around for a distraction and they landed on another young man who had been standing behind the Starks with Theon. He was handsome, with black curls, grey eyes and a solemn face. He had been quiet all throughout the introductions and had been pointedly ignored.

Maliya quickly put the pieces together. Three of Lord Stark's five children had their father's striking grey eyes, and this boy, who was not included with the other children, had a matching pair. In fact, he looked more like Lord Stark than Robb did. Irritation spread through her, but she quickly covered it with an innocent look on her face. "Lord Stark?" She called, looking up at him with her head tilted to the side. "I thought that I was to meet all of your family."

He frowned slightly in confusion. "Of course, My Lady – " He followed her pointed gaze and his expression cleared, an uncomfortable look crossing his face. "Ah. Yes, this is Jon Snow, my…. Bastard son."

Sand was the bastard name in Dorne, so Snow must be the name for the north.

Her eyes flickered around the other faces of the Stark family, taking in their uneasy expressions and the way they avoided her eyes. Only Lady Stark met her gaze, her blue eyes hard and unflinching. She was reminded of the constant warnings that the North was very different from Dorne and she supposed that this was just the first instance. Well, besides the weather, the clothing, the people and the accents, of course.

She knew that was she was about to do was obviously not considered appropriate in the North. But she was often accused of being impulsive and she wasn't thinking of whom she was possibly offending. She was thinking of her Sand Snake cousins and her anger on their behalf if they were ever treated like this – shoved in the back, forgotten and ignored.

So she purposefully strode around the Stark family and approached Jon Snow, who looked thoroughly alarmed at her actions. Smiling in what she hoped was a reassuring way, she said, "Hello, Jon. It truly is wonderful to meet you."

His wide eyes flashed over her shoulder before looking back at her. "Uh – " He croaked, breaking off and clearing his throat. "Yes, uh, it's nice to meet you too, Princess."

"Maliya, please," she insisted, grin widening at the panic in Jon's eyes and the red tinge to his cheeks. "I would like to introduce you to my Uncle Oberyn, Prince of Dorne."

"Uhh, hi – hello, Prince Oberyn," Jon stammered, looking so bewildered that a small part of Maliya that wasn't still annoyed actually began to regret her rash actions when she saw how uncomfortable this was making him.

It didn't help that her Uncle was acting like… her Uncle.

"Ah, yes," Oberyn mused, nodding contemplatively as he slowly walked forward to shake his hand. "The infamous Jon Snow," he drawled. "I've heard a lot about you, you know."

"You… have?"

Knowing her Uncle could and would make up some ridiculous story that he never actually heard about Jon Snow, Maliya decided to spare the poor guy.

"You know, I'm feeling pretty tired. And filthy," she announced loudly, hoping to put an end to whatever was going on here.

It worked perfectly. Lady Stark was reminded of her hostess duties and jumped in immediately, saying, "Of course, My Lady, it has been a very long journey for you. We'll get someone to show you to your room and draw you a bath – "

"I'll do it!" Sansa volunteered eagerly, flushing red again when everyone turned to look at her.

"Alright," Maliya smiled, after only a brief hesitation. She pretended not to hear Jon Snow's audible sigh of relief and turned to look at her Uncle questioningly.

"You go on," he smiled, waving her forward with an unconcerned flick of his hand. "I am not quite tired yet, I think I'll find something else to occupy my time."

Maliya caught the glint in his eye and the wolfish grin on his lips and fought once more to not roll her eyes. Not even in Winterfell for five minutes and already he was going to hunt for the nearest brothel. Maliya loved her Uncle dearly, but she wasn't blind to his faults and was more than aware of his reputation. They'd said he'd fucked half of Westeros, both men and women.

While it wasn't exactly her ideal life style, Maliya couldn't help but admire him. He knew who he was as a person and was unapologetic about it. Marriage wasn't in her Uncle's future and yet he found someone who shared his life style and interests. Maliya liked his paramour, Ellaria Sand – she was the mother of a few of Oberyn's daughters and a good, strong woman. She was glad that he was happy, in that regard at least.

Hiding her distracted thoughts, she nodded to her Uncle before turning back to Sansa. "Lead the way."

Maliya smiled at the rest of the Stark family, briefly meeting her betrothed's unreadable gaze before following Sansa through the archway and into the castle. Lacing her fingers in front of her, she pretended to be looking around with interest, hiding an amused smile as Sansa glanced at her shyly. As they rounded a corner, they came face to face with a young handmaiden, who curtsied deeply upon seeing them, her eyes glued to the floor.

"Hello Alarina," Sansa greeted kindly. "Please have a bath drawn in Princess Maliya's chambers as quickly as possible." The handmaiden nodded and hurried off. Sansa turned to Maliya. "While she's getting that ready, would you like me to give you a brief tour of Winterfell?"

"I would be very grateful," Maliya answered, though she wanted nothing more than to fall into a bed and sleep for several hours straight. "I suppose it would be embarrassing if I were to get lost in my new home, wouldn't it?"

"No one would blame you," Sansa replied, glancing at her as they began moving forward again. "I suppose it must be very difficult to leave your home to come live with complete strangers."

Maliya's smile turned sad. "Yes. I miss my family very much."

"Could they not come with you?"

"Unfortunately no. The journey here took two months alone. My father couldn't be away from Dorne for that long and my siblings have duties of their own to attend to. I have to remember to write them letters now that we have arrived."

"I can have a quill and some parchment sent to your room," Sansa offered eagerly.

Maliya's smile was genuine this time as she laid a hand on Sansa's arm. "I would be very grateful, Sansa, thank you."

"It's no trouble," Sansa answered, waving a hand though she looked pleased. They paused in the middle of a large doorway looking into a very large room. There was a long table on a raised platform overlooking the rest of the room, which looked big enough to hold hundreds of people. The room was buzzing with people hurrying around, setting up tables and getting things in order. "This is the Great Hall, where we eat all our meals. I apologize for the chaos, we're in the midst of preparing for your welcome feast. Don't worry, your wedding feast will be much larger than this one," Sansa continued conversationally, her eyes alight. "I'm sure as a Princess of Dorne you're used to wonderful, extravagant feasts, but in Winterfell it is a bit more difficult to have such large feasts so close together."

Maliya tilted her head to the side as she looked at her. "So close together? What do you mean?"

"Well, with the wedding being the day after tomorrow – "

Maliya stopped listening, the air escaping her body in one large gust as she froze in both shock and horror. _Two days._ For some reason she had figured that she would have at least a week before she would have to marry the Stark boy. She had to admit that a small part of her was still in denial of her impending nuptials, even though she was here in the North and had actually met her future husband. But maybe it was better this way. Better to get it over with, instead of dragging it out.

"My Lady?" Sansa asked in concern. Maliya hadn't even noticed that she had stopped speaking. "Are you alright?"

Maliya blinked, forcing herself to loosen her fingers so that her nails would stop digging into the backs of her hands. Forcing a smile onto her face, Maliya said quickly, "Yes, I'm sorry. I was just unaware of how soon the wedding would be."

"Yes, it is happening rather quickly," Sansa agreed with a frown, turning and leading Maliya down the hallway again.

"My Uncle must need to return to Dorne," Maliya told her, staring straight ahead so the other girl could not see the pain in her eyes at the thought. When her Uncle and the rest of his guard leave Winterfell, Maliya would be left in the cold, bitter and unforgiving North, surrounded by wolves. They walked in silence for a few moments. "It's… surprisingly warm in here," Maliya commented, the chill from outside finally leaving her body.

"Yes," Sansa smiled brightly. "Winterfell is located on several hot springs. The water is piped through the chambers and walls to heat them."

 _I suppose that's one good thing about this place,_ Maliya thought bitterly. "That's brilliant," she chuckled. "Now I suppose I can get rid of the fear that I will freeze to death in my sleep."

Sansa joined in her laughter. "You don't have to worry about that," she agreed, before sending her a curious look. "What is it like in Dorne?"

Despite the fact that Maliya was just pretending to be the nice, innocent princess and everything she had said so far was either fake or an act, she couldn't help but brighten at the question, her eyes holding a faraway look as she pictured her real home. She talked about the heat and the desert, of the beautiful ocean crashing on the shore and the exotic food and drink. As Sansa showed her the library and the Sept, they began talking about the different styles of dresses between Dorne and Winterfell.

At one point, Sansa stopped in front of an empty doorway and gestured inside. "These are your chambers, at least until you are married." Maliya's stomach twisted unpleasantly once more, trying to ignore Sansa's wide grin. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, thank you," Maliya said quickly, covering her rudeness with a smile. "I appreciate the tour Sansa, but I think a long bath is the only thing I need right now."

"Of course. I'll see you at the feast tonight!" Sansa curtsied before leaving Maliya alone in complete, blissful silence.

She entered the room, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it, closing her eyes with a weary sigh. Feeling the ache in her entire body, Maliya reluctantly moved off the door and looked around her temporary room. It was a decent size room, with a big bed up against the far wall, her large trunk and small chair and table on her right. There was one window on the left wall, but most of the room was still pretty dark. Maliya let a hand run over the soft furs covering the bed before moving to the screen in the corner of the room. A robe hung off of it and a peek behind showed a tub filled with steaming water.

Maliya stripped out of her heavy dress and cloak before tossing it on the bed. She unbuckled the tight sheath holding the dagger Nymeria had given her and unlaced her boots to retrieve the other one. She had been wearing them ever since she had left Dorne and she didn't think she would ever travel without them again. Their weight and presence had become both a comfort and a familiarity. It was a piece of home that no one knew was there. She quickly hid them under the covers of her bed.

Maliya slipped into the scalding water without hesitation, a pleasurable sigh escaping her when she was almost completely submerged. She lay there with her eyes closed, feeling her "Princess persona" slowly fade away as her muscles finally relaxed. Her mind drifted as she leisurely began to wash her hair and body.

She had learned a lot about Sansa Stark from the tour of Winterfell. She was three and ten years old, with completely innocent views of the world. From the introductions outside, she felt being a proper lady was important and she liked to sew and make her own dresses.

Basically, Sansa Stark was the complete opposite of her.

And yet, Maliya surprisingly didn't find her stupid or annoying, though that might change in the future. Maliya couldn't help but feel amused by her eagerness and excitement and there was even a small part of her that was jealous of Sansa. Her heart obviously wasn't as hurt or as broken as Maliya's was, blackened by the revenge that she desired above all else.

Coming here to Winterfell, using the Starks for information was going to be harder than she thought it was. She might be able to put on an act with her future husband and his parents, but she could already tell that it was going to be a lot more difficult with the other children. They had each had such a genuine reaction and personality when they were introduced to her that she found herself giving them real smiles despite herself.

Eventually, the water grew cool and light goose bumps began to appear on her skin. She stood, wringing her hair out and pausing a moment to allow the water to run off her body, before stepping out and drying off. Yawning widely and in a very unlady-like way, Maliya wrapped the robe around herself, shivering slightly as she climbed into the large bed, burying herself under the thick furs. Her eyes were drifting closed before she had even fully laid down, the stress, worry, excitement and exhaustion finally overwhelming her as she fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

Maliya jolted upright, glancing around with bleary eyes at the loud knock that sounded at her door. For a moment she panicked, completely convinced that she had been kidnapped and taken to some place that she did not recognize. As her breathing slowed, however, the memories from only hours ago came back to her.

Another knock sounded at the door and her eyes darted to it, bewildered. Closing the robe tighter around herself, she called out, "Come in!"

The door opened and the same handmaiden who was sent to fill her bath entered the room, curtsying in the doorway with her eyes trained on the ground. "Are you finished with your bath, My Lady?" She asked in a delicate voice.

Maliya studied her for a moment before replying. Everything about her was feminine and delicate. Her small, thin frame, her doe-like green eyes, her light brown hair and her cute button nose. "Yes," Maliya answered after a moment. "I'm finished."

The girl bowed her head as two older women entered the room, curtsying to Maliya before picking up the bath and removing it from the room to be emptied. When they left, the girl turned to Maliya once more. "The feast will be starting shortly, My Lady. Lady Stark sent me to see if you required any help."

"What is your name?" Maliya asked instead, slowly rising off the bed.

"Julina, My Lady."

"Alright, Julina," Maliya agreed, drifting towards the trunk and opened the lid. She stepped to the side and gestured for the other girl to come closer. "This is my first public appearance to the people of Winterfell. Which dress do you think I should wear?"

A small smile appeared on Julina's lips at the slight challenge in her voice. Maliya watched Julina carefully as she pulled out the different dresses and laid them on the bed. Maliya stopped her before she reached the wedding dress, which was lying on top of the sword and poison that was hidden on the bottom of her trunk. Julina took her time looking through the dresses, something that Maliya respected.

"These dresses are different than the ones that we make here," Julina commented.

"Yes, they were made in Dorne," Maliya told her, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I suspect that we use different cloth and materials."

"This material is lighter," Julina continued, fingering the sleeve of one dress. "It won't keep you as warm as our dresses would. If you like, I can have some made for you." The question was casually asked, and she didn't look to see Maliya's nod of approval. Julina had narrowed her eyes, picking up a blue dress and holding it up critically. "This one," she announced.

"Are you sure?" Maliya asked, surprised. "I've seen the style of clothing that the women wear here – don't you think that this dress is a little too low cut? My father had good intentions when he had these dresses made, of course, but they still have a Dornish appearance to them in some ways."

Julina shrugged lightly. "You can wear whatever you like, My Lady." Her gaze fell to the ground as she hesitated slightly. "You don't need to adopt the Northern way of dressing so quickly."

Maliya examined the demure girl for a moment before nodding in approval. "I appreciate it when people speak their minds, Julina, you've convinced me. Will you help me into the dress and style my hair?"

Julina's eyes widened in surprise, her mouth dropping open slightly. "My Lady, you're very kind, but you don't need to ask! I'm here to serve you in any way that you wish!"

Maliya's smile turned sad. "My father had a lot of sayings when I was growing up. One of his favorite was, 'Being polite is not only the right way to respond to people but the easiest. Life is so filled with unavoidable conflict that I see no reason to promote more confrontations.'"

"He sounds like a wise man," Julina commented as Maliya picked up her shift and stepped behind the screen to shrug out of her robe.

"The wisest," Maliya murmured, walking back into the room so Julina could help her into the dress and lace it up. They lapsed into silence, Maliya's heart aching as memories of her father played into her mind. She had never felt more like a little girl in that moment – a little girl that missed her father and her home, and a part of her hated that weakness.

"How long have you been with the Starks?" Maliya asked to distract herself as Julina led her to the chair and began to brush through her hair.

"Nine years, My Lady," Julina answered as her fingers flew through Maliya's hair. "My family has served the Starks for many generations." She seemed to sense Maliya's unspoken question because she continued in a casual voice. "The Starks are the greatest ruling family in the North. They're respectable, honorable people with many who are loyal to them."

Maliya frowned, digesting this information and trying to relate it to what she had always known growing up. Without the Starks, the Usurper wouldn't have stolen her family's throne and her family would still be alive. And for that betrayal, Maliya didn't think she could ever believe the words that Julina spoke.

"There," Julina said, stepping back and moving to pick up the looking glass on the table. "Do – Do you like it?" She inquired somewhat nervously, her eyes worried.

Maliya took the looking glass from her and raised it up, tilting her head from side to side to see what Julina had done. It was a simple hairstyle with the bottom half of her hair tumbling down her back. The top half was pulled back into two intricate braids, where they met in the back of her head to form one braid.

She stood, tilting the mirror down to get the full affect. The blue dress was long sleeved, as all her dresses would be from now on. It was simple enough, the only embroidery along the neckline, which plunged below her breasts. She could only imagine the crude comments that Tyene would make had she seen the dress; probably something about stealing her future husband's attention with her two best assets.

A small smile was on Maliya's lips as she put the looking glass down. "You did wonderfully, Julina, thank you."

A light blush stole across Julina's cheeks. "Thank you, My Lady. If you don't need anything else?" Maliya shook her head and Julina curtseyed, smiling at her before leaving the room.

As soon as she was gone, Maliya walked over to her bed and pulled back the covers, revealing her daggers. Lifting her heavy skirts, she buckled her dagger back onto her thigh and slipped the smaller dagger back into her boot, immediately feeling better once she had done so.

Another knock came at her door, making Maliya jump with a gasp, dropping her skirts and whirling around. She frowned, pressing a hand against her rapidly beating heart as she walked to the door. Thinking that maybe it was Julina again, she opened it saying, "Have you forgotten – "

She froze when she saw who was on the other side of the door. Robb Stark stood there, staring down at her with his icy blue eyes and as Maliya tried to recover from her shock, she belatedly realized that Julina had chosen a dress that directly matched the color of his eyes.

"Were you expecting someone else?" He asked in a stiff, confused voice.

Maliya gave her head a slight shake to clear it. "No, I thought it was – never mind. Can I help you with something?"

"The feast will be starting shortly," He began.

"Yes," Maliya interrupted with a polite smile, feeling her mask slipping back into place. "Julina was just helping me get ready," she told him, running her hands over the dress material on her stomach. She frowned after a moment, and it took her another second to figure out what was unsettling her. She had been waiting for Robb's gaze to dip down into the neckline of her dress and felt strangely unnerved when his cold blue eyes remained staring blankly at her. Tilting her head to the side, she felt confusion rush through her. Boys and men had always been unrestrained when they allowed their eyes to roam a woman's body, but Maliya guessed that she never fully understood how accustomed she had become to it.

"Are you alright?" Robb asked, still watching her.

"Just a little anxious for the feast, I guess," she lied quickly, laughing slightly even though she still felt off balance.

"There is nothing to be anxious about," he assured her grudgingly. He paused for a moment. "May I escort you, Princess?" Maliya glanced at his offered arm and then back up at his stony expression and wanted nothing more than to slam the door in his face and crawl back into bed.

Her shoulders wanted to droop with the weight of her "Princess" responsibilities, the years of training that had been drilled into her making her hold her tongue. "I would be honored, My Lord," she finally answered, reluctantly taking his arm and closing her chamber door behind her.

They slowly began to walk down the corridor, Maliya's hand resting on his arm as lightly as possible as she felt the awkwardness of their silence wash over her. She had just been debating what to say when he spoke. "I feel that I should apologize for earlier," he said, making her look up at him in confusion. "Rickon is only five years old and it appears that he's at that age where he repeats everything he hears."

"Oh," Maliya exclaimed, shaking her head. "I do not blame him. I have a younger brother as well so I know what it's like."

He heard the words she did not say. "Theon Greyjoy, he's …" He paused for a moment, thinking quickly. "He has a crude sense of humor and often speaks without thinking." An apologetic smile touched his lips. "It may be the first time he insulted you, but it certainly won't be the last."

Maliya looked away from him, hiding her smirk. "I can assure you, My Lord, I have heard far worse."

This time it was he who looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. "Was it not you who wished to use less formal names?"

"Yes," she murmured softly, chuckling. "I suppose it was. It may have been a rash decision on my part. I don't know you and all of this just seems so… "

He noticed her struggling for an appropriate word and added one of his own. "Unreal?"

At the same time she said, "Unfair."

Both of them had uttered the words under their breath as if they weren't sure they wanted the other to hear. Without either of them realizing it, they had both stopped walking, taking a moment to study each other in surprise. "You… you don't want this marriage either?" Robb asked, looking shocked.

Maliya looked at him incredulously, wondering if she was being saddled with a complete idiot. "I had to leave my family and friends, my warm, beautiful home to travel for months to marry someone I had never even met." She paused, nonplussed, head tilted to the side. "Why don't _you_ want this marriage?"

He blinked before narrowing his cold blue eyes at her. "Why do you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like the thought that I wouldn't want this marriage is absurd." His voice grew as hard as his gaze, making her frown up at him.

"Well…." she shrugged unconcernedly, looking as if she agreed with his statement.

He stepped away from her, crossing his arms, his body radiating his annoyance and anger. "Why don't you explain it to me?"

Maliya couldn't understand his sudden change of behavior. "My family is providing yours with resources as well as an alliance in the south. You're going to be marrying a Princess whom most men find to be attractive. It may sound conceited but – "

"You're right," he interrupted, shaking his head in disgust. "You do sound conceited. Believe it or not, but I don't want this marriage, even more so now than I did before. I had hoped to marry for love, or at least choose whom I was to marry. Because believe me when I say that I would never have chosen someone like you." Rage and disbelief made Maliya narrow her eyes and clench her jaw as she felt the sting of his insult. He pulled something out of his cloak pocket and shoved it into her hands. "Here. Your engagement present." She looked down at the small box in her hands then back at him as they glared at each other. "If you'll excuse me," he muttered stiffly.

Maliya watched him stride away, her glare slowly fading and confusion taking over. What in the seven hells had just happened? How had that escalated so quickly? Besides her family, there wasn't a person in Dorne that would have dared to speak to her like that. Half of her was impressed that he had the guts to speak to her like that knowing who she was, and the other half was pissed that he did. He was extremely disrespectful, and combined with the knowledge of what his family had done to hers, it made her dislike him even more.

She glared down at the box she still had clenched in her hand and had to fight the urge to chuck it out of the nearest window. Curiosity got the best of her, however. Huffing an annoyed sigh at herself, she opened the box and froze, staring down at it with wide eyes. It was a necklace with a silver sun on the end of it, an exact replica of the sun from the Martell banners. Why would he choose to give this to her as an engagement present?

Maliya shook her head, feeling more perplexed than ever. She usually prided herself on her ability to understand people, but she just couldn't seem to get a read on her future husband. Too exhausted to think about it any further, Maliya turned around to walk the short distance back to leave the box in her chambers before heading down to the feast.

Unfortunately she didn't pay as much attention as she should have when Sansa was giving her the tour around the large castle and she quickly became lost. Apparently she was late for the feast. The castle was deserted and there was no one around to help point her in the right direction. Muttering darkly under her breath, she decided to head down to the first floor and just wander until she either found someone to help or found the Great Hall.

She had been walking the corridors aimlessly when she heard voices coming from up ahead.

A woman spoke, her voice frigid with dislike. " – better if you do not make an appearance at the feast tonight."

"Yes, My Lady," a quiet male voice answered.

"We don't want to offend our royal guests, do you understand?"

"Yes, My Lady."

Maliya unconsciously slowed her approach, straining to listen and decipher the voices, but she hadn't been in Winterfell long enough to tell one voice from another.

"It also might be better if you don't attend the wedding feast – "

"What?" The male interrupted, sounding shocked and upset. "But it's Robb's wedding – "

"Is everything alright?" Maliya asked in a pleasant voice, stepping around the corner and watching as both Lady Stark and Jon Snow whirled to face her. They both carefully arranged the expressions on their faces, Lady Stark forcing a smile. Maliya could still feel the tension in the air, could practically feel it clinging to her until it felt as if she was swimming through it. Her eyes flickered from the embarrassed, downcast expression on Jon's face, his eyes trained on the ground to the tightness in Lady Stark's mouth and shoulders.

"Everything is just fine, My Lady," Lady Stark hurried to assure her, to pretend that nothing was wrong. "Where's Robb?" She asked, changing the subject. " I told him – Isn't he escorting you to the feast?"

Maliya stifled a sigh. So that was why he had shown up at her chambers. Because his mother had ordered him to escort her to the feast. The idea hadn't been his after all. "I think he's already inside."

Her eyes looked to Jon again and her heart went out to him, the injustice of Lady Stark's words making her unable to stay quiet and pretend she hadn't heard any of what was said. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation," Maliya told them, keeping her tone pleasant and adding an apologetic smile. She saw Lady Stark's smile slip and Jon's wince of discomfort. "It isn't necessary for Jon to miss the feast tonight."

"I'm sorry you had to hear that, My Lady," Lady Stark said stiffly. "But it really isn't appropriate – "

"This feast is in my honor, is it not?" Maliya interrupted in a loud voice, causing Lady Stark to blink in surprise at the change of subject. A hot bolt of anger swooped through her chest, heating up her body and making her act impulsively once more.

"Yes, of course – "

Maliya turned to look up at Jon, his solemn grey eyes meeting hers in confusion. "Then I will see you at the feast, Jon Snow."

His eyes widened and flickered to Lady Stark, whose face had gone carefully blank and unreadable. "I don't want to cause any trouble," he murmured in a low voice, shaking his head.

"You're not," she reassured him with a smile. "I intend to become acquainted with my betrothed's family and I would be insulted if his entire family didn't attend the feast tonight."

To Maliya's surprise, he didn't look happy or relieved by her offer; instead he looked agitated and upset. "Of course, My Lady." He inclined his head slightly. "If you'll excuse me, I should go change."

Maliya turned to watch him go before speaking once more to a still silent Lady Stark without looking over at her. "Have you ever been to Dorne, Lady Stark?" She asked casually, clasping her hands in front of her.

"I can't say I've had the pleasure."

Maliya nearly smiled at the hardness to the older woman's voice. "In Dorne, we don't treat bastards as if they are nothing more than the dirt on the bottom of our boots. We don't discriminate against them or treat them any differently. But most importantly, we don't punish the innocent children for the sins of their parents."

Maliya glanced over at Lady Stark as the woman turned to face her, her icy blue eyes so similar to her son's, especially when they were staring at her with such contempt and dislike. "Have you ever been married, My Lady?" She countered with a question of her own.

Maliya's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What was this woman playing at? She knew the answer to her own question. "No…"

"Until you have to deal with your husband bringing home another woman's child, someone who reminds you of his betrayal every time you look at him, don't speak as if you understand our situation." Her words were brisk and delivered as if Maliya were beneath her. Lady Stark began to walk away, but paused at the corner and looked back over her shoulder. "A word of advice, My Lady? You aren't in Dorne any longer. You're in the North. Things are done differently here – you'd do well to remember that."

"Obviously," Maliya whispered to herself as Lady Stark left her standing in the corridor, a wave of homesickness washing over her so swiftly and fiercely that it made her lose her breath.

"There you are!" Maliya looked up to see Uncle Oberyn approaching her with a grin on his face, though it faltered as he grew closer. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been? Are you alright?"

"Yes," Maliya sighed, wrapping an arm around his waist as he slung his around her shoulders and began leading her to the Great Hall. "I don't think I've made the best impression on some members of my future family," she admitted.

She blinked as her Uncle burst out laughing, a begrudging smile crossing her face as the familiar sound washed over her. "Did I not tell you your sharp tongue would get you into trouble?" He teased as his laughter died down. "It didn't even take eight hours, that must be a new record for you, Maliya. Tell me what happened."

And so she did.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I had a hard time writing Robb/Maliya's interaction, so I hope it came out okay! Be sure to let me know what you guys thought!**

 **Next chapter – More interactions with Maliya and the Stark family, an Oberyn/Robb scene that I'm SO excited for, and… the wedding and the wedding night! It's going to be a packed chapter – is there anything else you guys would like to see?**

 **** Also, I have a question for anyone who cares! I know everyone in the Stark family is going to have a direwolf. Since Maliya will be pretty much integrated into the family by that point, would you like to see her have a direwolf? Or do you think she should have something different… like a shadowcat?! I know which one I'm leaning towards, but I would love your opinion! You can vote in the poll on my profile**

 **Guest 1 – Thanks for your review! There's a Robb/Maliya interaction in this chapter, I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Guest 2 – Thanks for reviewing! I agree, it would be ideal if they had more time to get to know one another, but unfortunately that isn't the case in this story. Thanks for the compliments, hope you liked this chapter!**

 **Guest 3 – I'm glad you like my story already! Thanks for taking the time to write a review!**

 **Cait – Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! Hope you like this update just as much!**


	4. Beginnings

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! This chapter kind of got away from me, but I hope it makes up for my absence. I feel like I've been working on this for so long now that I'm posting it right after it's finished, I apologize for any mistakes.**

 **Please give it a read and review!**

* * *

Chapter 4: Beginnings

 **Maliya's POV**

Maliya slept in a little bit later than she usually did the next morning. Although she knew it was fruitless, she buried her head under her pillow and attempted to pretend that she wasn't going to marry a man that seemed to hold nothing but contempt for her. Nobody came in to bother her and Maliya suspected that her Uncle might have had something to do with that. He always seemed to know when something was wrong and must have seen her fraying nerves last night at the feast.

He was amused when she told him what had occurred yesterday. Within the first few hours of arriving at Winterfell, she had managed to anger both her betrothed and her future godmother, a fact which Uncle Oberyn had laughed loudly at, attracting the attention of almost everyone in the Great Hall.

"I told you," he had chortled, his laugh dying down though his eyes still glittered. "I told you that your sharp tongue would get you into trouble."

Unfortunately he had been right. Although Maliya prided herself on her 'Princess Persona,' there were times where her impulsive behavior got the best of her and she ended up getting into trouble. This was just one example of many. Any normal uncle would have told her keep her nose out of the Stark's family business, but Oberyn knew what her goal was. The sole purpose of this marriage was to discreetly put her nose directly into Stark business so that she could begin to get vengeance for her family. Oberyn's advice had been to "play nice." To get on the family's good side and gain their trust so that they would freely give her information.

Heaving a sigh, Maliya reluctantly pulled her head out from under her pillow and slid out of bed to begin to get ready for her day. It was time to put the first stage of her plan into place.

She dressed in a simple dark green dress that she could lace up herself, braided her hair and slipped on a cloak that had been brought up for her. Making sure she had both of her knives on her body, she put a pleasantly serene look on her face, and left her room, making sure to close her door behind her.

She wandered through the hallways of Winterfell, smiling at people who passed her by but not pausing to get drawn into a conversation. The Great Hall was on her route so she stopped by to pick up some hot bread and blueberry preserves which she ate on the way.

At the feast last night, Arya complained to anyone who would listen that she didn't want to go to her sewing lessons the next morning. So Maliya was taking her Uncle's advice and working through the Stark family one at a time to gain their trust.

This particular plan came to her late last night when she was getting ready for bed after the feast. Once she thought of the plan she immediately felt better. As long as she had a goal in mind, as long as she took this one day at a time, she might be able to get through this. She asked a passing maid where Arya and Sansa took their lessons and headed in that direction.

As she came upon the room, she heard an older woman's voice through the open doorway. "Oh Arya, for goodness sake, there is more blood in your fabric than stitches."

"Oh don't worry about me, I'm fine," Maliya heard Arya mutter angrily, though it sounded garbled, like she had just stuck her injured finger in her mouth.

Lips twitching humorously, Maliya gently knocked on the door and entered the room, lacing her fingers in front of her. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the scene in front of her. Sansa was sitting very primly, her stitches neat and perfect, a small smile on her face. Arya, on the other hand, was hunched over a white cloth dotted with red, a glowering expression on her face while her Septa stood over her looking exasperated.

"Oh!" Maliya exclaimed, holding a hand to her chest and feigning an expression of surprise. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I must have taken a wrong turn – I still haven't learned my way around this place yet."

"Princess Maliya!" Sansa gasped, jumping to her feet hastily. "You should have sent someone to fetch me, I would be glad to – "

"Oh no, I would have been loathe to interrupt your work!" Maliya stepped further into the room, coming over by Sansa's side. "Are you making a dress?" She asked, tilting to her head. Her eyes widened as Sansa held it out for her. "Wow that's…that's beautiful, Sansa! You're really very talented!"

Sansa flushed a bright red, an embarrassed yet pleased smile crossing her face.

"Yes, Sansa is a quick learner and she is really flourishing, My Lady," their Septa commented with a proud smile. "I wish all of my students put as much effort into their work as Sansa did," she added with a pointed look at Arya.

"I don't _want_ to learn how to sew or curtsey or speak properly!" Arya retorted, making a face.

"Like it or not Arya, you were born a female in the Stark family and are in fact a lady!"

"But I don't _want_ to be a lady!" Arya snapped, crossing her arms.

Maliya examined the older woman, taking in her appearance. She had a bony face, sharp, beady eyes and a thin, lipless mouth. "I see," Maliya murmured, glancing back at Arya and back again. "I was actually hoping to borrow Arya now that I'm here. I need someone to assist me in choosing new materials for dresses up in the north and bringing them to the seamstress. I don't want to interrupt Sansa's lessons, but it looks like Arya's fingers need a break for the day. I do hope you don't mind."

The Septa was silent for a moment observing Maliya's polite smile. Maliya knew that she couldn't outright refuse her and she waited until the Septa came to the same conclusion. "Alright, My Lady," she grudgingly agreed, nodding. "Arya, you're free to go."

"Great!" Maliya smiled widely before turning to leave the room, Arya trailing behind her glumly. As they walked, Maliya could practically feel Arya's bad mood and disgust rolling over her in waves. She couldn't help but smile. "You really don't want to have anything to do with sewing or dresses, do you?" She asked lightly, glancing over in time to see the other girl's eyes narrow.

"No," Arya answered shortly. "They can try all they want, but I will _not_ become a lady."

"I can understand what you're going through," Maliya told her. "I didn't like the dresses or the feasts when I was younger either. I would much rather have learned to fight and ride horses."

Arya sent her a disbelieving look, looking her up and down. "No offense, but aren't you're a princess? Isn't your life all about grand balls, pretty gowns and handsome princes?"

Maliya barely bit back the hysterical laugh that threatened to escape her. She was constantly amazed and envious of the simple, innocent views of a child. "It took me a long, couple of years to come to terms with who I was. There's the princess half of me who learned to love to occasionally dress up. While balls and handsome princes are often incredibly dull, it's part of the job. Then there's the other half of me who still loves the adventure, loves to wear a pair of riding trousers and take off on my horse for a day." Maliya stopped talking, looking away and pressing her lips together. She hadn't meant to reveal that much about herself, but she saw part of herself in Arya.

Arya was gaping at her incredulously. "They let you wear _trousers_?"

Maliya grinned. "Life in Dorne functions quite differently than it does here. It's not as… structured."

"I wish I lived in Dorne," Arya sighed wistfully, looking away. She frowned, taking in her surroundings as Maliya led them outside. "This isn't the way to the seamstress," she said slowly.

"You're very astute," Maliya teased. As they walked across the grounds, Maliya sighed as she saw the dirt and mud beginning to accumulate on the bottom of her dress. Was there no grass up here in the north? Hoping to distract herself, she looked at Arya. "Do you still have no idea where we're going?" At Arya's clueless look, she continued. "My Uncle Oberyn is training your brother Bran this morning. I thought you might like to watch."

Arya's eyes lit up, a delighted grin crossing her face. She began to run ahead of Maliya but paused, looking back, her eyes wide with excitement. "Thank you!" She cried before running off again.

Maliya chuckled at her enthusiasm, following behind her at a slower pace. When she stepped into the training yard she saw a bunch of people waiting there already. Arya ran up and joined Robb, Jon and Theon, who were each holding a bow and coaching Bran who was currently aiming at a target.

As Maliya walked up to the group unnoticed, Bran released the arrow, which went wide, missing the target completely. The older boys chortled at the disappointed look on Bran's face. Theon, with a condescending grin on his face, clapped Bran on the back, gently pushing him out of the way. "Step out of the way, Bran, let me show you how it's done."

Maliya watched with a critical eye as Theon took his stance, fit his arrow into his bow and pulled back the string. "Should you hold the bow so tight?" Maliya commented, causing the others to notice her presence for the first time with surprise. "You look like you're trying to strangle it."

Robb's face darkened at the sight of her and Jon looked uncomfortable. Only Bran smiled at her. Theon, on the other hand, rolled his eyes. "No offense, My Lady, but why don't you leave things like this to the men who actually know what they're talking about."

"What men?" Arya scoffed, eyes narrowing at the insult to women. "In order to be a man, you need to grow up, Theon. Bran's more of a man than you are."

"Alright," Jon chuckled, placing his hands on Arya's shoulders and pulling her back a few steps. "That's enough. Just get on with it, Greyjoy. Show us all how it's done."

He glared at the obvious note of sarcasm in Jon's voice but resumed his stance, pulling back the bowstring and letting the arrow fly. Maliya couldn't help the snort that escaped her as the arrow hit the corner of the board, missing the circular target altogether.

Theon's head snapped around to throw her a dark look. "You think you can do better?" He snarled, holding out the bow and arrow to her and giving her a mocking bow. "Then by all means, _your highness_."

"Me?" Maliya asked in a shocked voice, brown eyes widening. "But I'm just a princess! What do I know about shooting arrows?"

"Oh come _on_ Maliya, you can do it!" Arya encouraged, shrugging Jon off and grabbing Maliya's hand to pull her forward. Maliya smiled at the fierce expression on her face as she snatched the bow and arrow from Theon's hand and handed it to her before lining Maliya up in front of the target. ""Okay, now are you right or left handed?"

"Right," Maliya answered, struggling to hide how amused she was feeling. It took a lot for her to maintain her cluelessness, to look completely bewildered as Arya tried to coach her. "Like this?" She asked naively, knowing that her grip was wrong.

"Hey Stark, your bride needs help," Theon taunted with a smug, mocking grin, crossing his arms in challenge. "Maybe you should show her how it's done."

This had certainly not been part of her plan.

Maliya froze, her wide eyes flickering over her shoulder to see Robb glaring angrily at his friend before realizing that Maliya was watching him and schooling his expression. "Of course," he finally answered, pausing a moment too long and letting Maliya know that he wanted no part in this. Nevertheless, he strode forward around Arya and stepped up just behind Maliya. "Show me your stance," he murmured in a low voice. Maliya did as he said, wondering if she was imagining the heat that she could feel radiating off him. "You have to shift your hips a little bit," he continued. Maliya's muscles twitched as he placed his hands lightly on her waist and adjusted her. "Lower this arm a little bit, letting your left hand rest just at the edge of your mouth."

Maliya swallowed at his nearness, the scent of him, a musky woodsy smell, drifted over her. She felt one of his hands remain at his waist while the other drifted along her right arm. Flickering her eyes to her left, she caught and was held within the gaze of his icy blue eyes, which seemed to stare right through her.

"Well?" Arya asked impatiently, jolting her back to the present and making Robb take a step back. "What are you waiting for?"

She could hear Theon chuckle knowingly behind her and she mentally shook herself, putting whatever just happened out of her mind. She took a moment to get a feel for the bow, which wasn't nearly as beautifully made as the one that she had back home. Taking a deep, calming breath, Maliya adjusted her stance slightly, pulled back the string with her right arm and relaxed her bow arm. She lined up the target with her dominant eye, slowly took a deep breath in and released on the exhale. The arrow twanged from her bow, shooting forward almost faster than the eye could see and burying deep in the center of the target.

Maliya relished the long moment of stunned silence from behind her. Smiling politely and turning her gaze in Theon's direction, she asked, "Did I do that correctly?"

"Whoa," Bran murmured, gazing at her with wide eyes.

Meanwhile, a wide smile was beginning to cross Arya's face as she looked at Maliya in a whole new light. Jon looked impressed but Maliya couldn't seem to read the look on Robb's face. "Lucky shot," Theon muttered dismissively, scoffing. "There's no way you can do that again!"

Jon took in the affronted look on Maliya's face and commented with a grin, "I think I feel a bet coming on."

Theon's eyes narrowed. "Alright. I bet you that you can't hit the target."

"And if you win?" Maliya asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Theon's eyes flickered to Robb standing behind her and a smirk crossed his face. "If I win, then you owe me a favor. To be collected at a time of my choosing."

Maliya felt someone make a noise behind her, but she was already nodding. "Deal. And if I win…. " Her eyes lit up as she crossed her arms, a wide grin on her lips. "If I win, you must strip down to your undergarments and sing "The Bear and the Maiden Fair" in the middle of the Great Hall."

Her grin only widened as she heard Bran and Arya giggling. "It seems that your future wife wants to see me what I'm working with, Stark," Theon laughed, his eyes glittering in delight. It took all her power to resist wrinkling her nose in disgust. She had seen better-looking men wandering the streets in Dorne. "Alright, My Lady, you have a deal. Shall we shake on it?"

Maliya eyed his outstretched hand warily. "I would rather not, I don't know where that hand has been. We have enough witnesses to prove the outcome of the bet. Are you prepared to lose, Greyjoy?"

"Are you joking?" Theon snorted, cross his own arms. "I'm already trying to think of the best favor that I can call in."

"Come on, My Lady, you can do it!" Bran cried out in encouragement, excitement in his voice.

Maliya surreptitiously winked at him and Arya as she turned to take her stance once more. Her movements were practiced and sure as she pulled back the bowstring, took a deep breath, and released. Just as she had known it would, the arrow buried itself deep within the center of the target. Arya and Bran cheered as Jon roared with laughter at the look of disbelief on Theon's face. Flush with victory, Maliya looked around, giving a small curtsey to Theon as he stared at her in outrage, mouthing wordlessly.

Lips lifting in her own smirk, Maliya looked away and caught Robb's eye. The smile that had been playing around the edge of his lips faded as his icy blue, calculating gaze met hers. Once more, Maliya couldn't look away. His eyes were knowing, as if he could see right through her and didn't like what he saw there.

"You tricked me!" Theon spluttered, pointing an accusing finger. "You knew how to shoot an arrow all along!"

"That's an important first lesson, boys and girls," a male voice called. Everyone turned to see Oberyn strolling towards them, hands behind his back and a mischievous smile on his face. "Never underestimate a woman like Maliya Martell."

Maliya grinned at him, leaning the bow against the barrel of arrows and striding off to place a kiss on his cheek. "Morning, Uncle. You're late."

"You say that like you're surprised," Oberyn chuckled, kissing her back. He stepped to the training circle, casually drawing his sword and gesturing to the group. "I have to say I am surprised, however. I only expected Lord Bran, this crowd does seem quite large."

"I hope you will forgive us, Prince Oberyn," Robb apologized, speaking up for the first time since she had arrived on the scene. "Rumors of your legendary prowess in battle has reached us all the way from Dorne. We are just eager to see you in action."

"Very well," Oberyn said, inclining his head. "Who's first, then?" He paused, glancing at Bran. "Is it alright, Lord Bran, if we have a quick sparring session before your training?"

Bran puffed out his chest importantly and nodded, though Maliya could see the childish excitement in his eyes. It was such a Trystane expression that Maliya's smile faded slightly, her heart twisting painfully. She wondered what he was doing at this moment. Was he in his lessons? Riding his horse? Swiping a pie from the kitchens?

Maliya was startled out of her thoughts by a hand grabbing her own. She looked down to see Bran tugging her urgently. "Come on, My Lady, we don't want to be standing in the way!"

Maliya smiled down at him, following him outside of the training circle. Theon, of course, had volunteered to face her uncle first. His expression was serious, whereas Oberyn simply looked amused. The fight was over in a matter of seconds. Theon had charged her uncle with a savage yell, brandishing the sword above his head. Oberyn sidestepped him easily and disarmed him in two moves, knocking him flat on his back, much to Maliya's glee.

"Rule number two!" Oberyn called, twirling his sword effortlessly as Theon winced, struggling to get up. "Never let your opponent know you are coming! It gives them time to prepare for and defend your attacks. Who's next?"

Robb volunteered next. As he was retrieving his sword, Maliya used the opportunity to look over and see two twin looks of astonishment and awe on both Bran and Arya's faces. She felt a strong amount of pride in her badass uncle, proud of the fact that he was family and she had been taught by one of the most formidable fighters in all of Westeros.

She turned her attention to the two men circling each other, observing Robb with a critical eye. She had fought against her uncle numerable times and knew his fighting style well. In her opinion, a man's fighting style told her a lot about who he was as a person. For example, Greyjoy was loud, arrogant and impulsive. Robb seemed to have more caution, at least. He still made the first move, but it was a controlled slash at Oberyn's hip, not a flailing maneuver like Greyjoy executed.

While it was apparent that Robb was skilled with a blade, it was obvious to Maliya that he was nowhere near the same skill level as her Uncle. Oberyn was easily blocking his blade, a fact that made Robb's eyes narrow in frustration. The fight lasted longer than Greyjoys, but in the end Oberyn was able to disarm Robb fairly easily. Jon was next, and Maliya was surprised to see how skilled he was. Whereas Robb had more strength in his hits, Jon seemed to be able to execute more complicated maneuvers and seemed to have more natural instinct about his opponent.

After Oberyn disarmed Jon, there was a lot of excited chatter and laughter amongst the Starks as each of them surged forward to talk to him. Their eyes were alight and their faces were flush as they asked Oberyn to demonstrate and teach them certain moves that he had made.

Shaking her head slightly at all the attention her Uncle was receiving and the obvious pleasure he was getting out of it, Maliya used this opportunity to slip away and explore Winterfell a bit more. She wanted to learn every nook and cranny about this place and she started by learning a more about the grounds. She identified the bell and library tower and found the stables, where she spent a bit of time brushing Shadow.

Feeling a bit bored and restless, Maliya headed back towards the castle, where she came across an old, squat fortress that looked even older than the rest of Winterfell. The area was pretty deserted, so whatever the building used to be, it wasn't anymore. An old, ironwood door caught her eye, one that sent a shiver down her spine just by looking at it.

After glancing around and debating with herself for half a minute, her curiosity got the better of her. She headed towards the door, struggling with it a moment because it was so heavy, but eventually managed to pull it open. A cold, damp breeze washed over her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Maliya reached up and grabbed the torch from the wall before cautiously descending down the stone, spiral staircase. Her boots echoed ominously against the steps as her ears unconsciously strained for any other type of noise.

The staircase kept going further down underneath Winterfell, but Maliya stepped off at the first landing and raising the torch high above her head, finally understanding where she was. The crypts of Winterfell. On either side of the long, narrow pathway, larger than life statues of the Lords of Winterfell seemed to stare out at her. As she proceeded forward slowly, she noticed that they each had a longsword on their lap and a large wolf curled at their feet.

She read some of the names as she passed by; Benjen, Ellard, Brandon, Rickard, all Starks that seemed to judge her as she walked. The light from the torch bounced creepily off the wall, and on more than one occasion she thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, but convinced herself that it was a trick of the light. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she was just about to turn around and head back when she came across a statue that was different from all the rest.

A fresh, pale blue winter rose rested in the hand of the outstretched statue. A heavy, cold feeling rested in the middle of Maliya's chest as she took a shuddering breath and looked up into the face of Lyanna Stark.

Hatred seeped through her as she stared at the statue. This was the woman who was the cause of Robert's Rebellion, the woman who was responsible for the deaths of thousands of people. While she obviously had never met the woman, she had heard the stories.

Lyanna Stark was known as the wild she-wolf of the north, known to be beautiful, intelligent and adventurous. To Maliya, however, she was the woman who had ruined everything. If not for Lyanna Stark, her father would never have named her the "Queen of Love and Beauty" at that tournament in Harrenhal, blatantly disrespecting her mother. If not for Lyanna Stark, her father would never have abandoned a wife and two children. She didn't know which story was true, if her father had abducted the girl or if they had run away together and she supposed she would never really know. What she did know is that she was still dealing with the consequences of their actions, actions that had ruined her entire life. While part of her wished she could ask her father these questions, to try and understand what he had been thinking, the other half of her would probably get so enraged that she would kill him all over again.

It was a cruel twist of fate that she now had to marry into the family of the woman who caused so many problems and so many deaths.

"Can I help you, My Lady?" Startled, Maliya whirled around to see Jon Snow standing a few feet away with a torch of his own. His face guarded and his voice suspicious.

She looked away from him, back at the statues though she wasn't really seeing anything. "Did you follow me here, Jon?" She asked in a casual, disinterested voice.

"I saw you heading down here," he said in answer. "I wanted to talk with you about what happened yesterday, with Lady Stark."

"You're upset with me," she guessed, turning to face him completely.

"I – " He paused, blinking in surprise. "Of course not, My Lady. I just wanted to let you know, for the future, that I won't need require your assistance. Lady Stark has her reasons for saying what she did and while I do appreciate what you were trying to do – "

"I didn't intervene on your behalf," Maliya interrupted, lacing her fingers in front of her. "After all, I hardly know you."

"Then… then why did you?" Jon asked, looking confused.

"Basic human decency," Maliya shrugged, tilting her head to the side as she observed him closely. She watched him look away, his expression shuttering. She continued in a soft voice. "I don't believe that any person should be treated or spoken to that way, let alone a child – "

"I am no child," Jon snapped, grey eyes flashing.

Maliya paused for a moment. "My apologies," she told him, inclining her head slightly. She bit back a smile – that was exactly the sort of reaction that she would have had. "But I do believe you understand the point I am trying to make." She bit her lip, debating how much to tell him. "Back in Dorne, the people are more tolerant of bastards than they are in the north. But even still there were some who looked down on my cousins just for being born. They treated them differently as if they didn't matter or weren't worth their time." Maliya's voice grew hard, just the thought of it making her angry all over again. "The Sand Snakes can handle themselves, of course, but I invited them to every large event so the people could see just what I thought about their discriminatory behavior."

There was a strange look on Jon's face as he considered her. "You're not like most princesses, are you?"

Maliya grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Do you know many princesses, Jon Snow?" She teased.

He flushed, shaking his head with a sheepish grin. "None, actually, besides you." He looked around. "What are you doing down here anyway?" Maliya couldn't have explained it, but he seemed more relaxed around her for some reason.

Maliya sighed. "Curiosity. I was doing a bit of exploring and I couldn't resist." She turned back towards the statue of Lyanna and felt him come up to stand next to her. "Where did the rose come from?"

"My father comes down here as often as he can to pay his respects," Jon answered in a quiet voice. "My aunt used to love winter roses." A cold breeze seemed to snake through the crypt, causing Maliya to shiver noticeably. Jon offered her his arm. "We should head back up, My Lady. You could catch a chill if you stay down here for too long."

Maliya accepted his arm, teasing him once more. "As the only princess you know, Jon, I think Maliya will do just fine."

As they approached the winding staircase once more, she glanced down into the dark and paused, frowning, with one foot on the stairs. A strange fog seemed to fill her head, her gaze un-focusing as an inexplicable urge to descend the stairs filled her body.

"Maliya?" Jon's voice seemed to come from far away, so slow and garbled that she had a hard time understanding what he was saying. "Princess? Are you alright?"

Maliya blinked and looked away, up at Jon and the fog seemed to lift. He was staring down at her in concern, brows furrowed. She shook her head, shoving away whatever the seven hells had just happened to her and saving it for further examination, feeling uncomfortable with how closely Jon was watching her.

"Sorry!" She laughed easily, continuing up the staircase and pretending like nothing happened. "What were you saying?"

He glanced at her again, still looking concerned and hesitant, but thankfully he didn't pursue it. "I was asking if you were ready for the wedding tomorrow."

Maliya snorted before she could stop herself. "I'm about to be legally bound to a man that I haven't even known for a full day." Jon was silent as they climbed out of the crypt, blinking against the bright light of the sun. "Sorry," she continued, thinking he had been offended. "I know he's your brother, that was inappropriate."

Jon chuckled, waving her off. "Yes he is my brother and of course he can be a pain in the – " He stopped short, sending her a sideways look.

She smiled up at him, eyes alight with humor. "Feel free to speak freely, Jon. I can assure you I have heard far worse than whatever you were about to say."

He smiled back at her. "My brother has his flaws, as does anybody else. But he is a good man; loyal, just and fair. You could marry someone far worse."

"That is reassuring to hear," Maliya lied, keeping her face blank. "Thank you."

They paused at the entrance to the castle and Maliya let go off his arm. She looked down at herself, noting the dust and dirt and sighed. "I should go clean up. I appreciate you coming to find me."

"Of course, Princ – Maliya," he corrected, inclining his head. She turned to head back inside. "Maliya?" He called, causing her to look back around. "Welcome to the family."

* * *

Maliya stared at herself through the looking glass. "Wow," Julina breathed softly from beside her. "You look beautiful, My Lady."

"Yes," Maliya agreed in a dead, wooden voice. And she really did. The wedding dress that Arianne had made for her fit perfectly, accentuating her chest and slim waist. Her black hair contrasted elegantly against the white of her dress. Julina had done an intricate half up half down braided style, the rest falling down her back in its natural curls. What Julina didn't see behind the Princess persona was the pale tint underneath her olive skin, the look of anger and betrayal in her eyes and the strong urge to projectile vomit. "Thank you for your help, Julina. You may go."

The other girl curtsied and left, shutting the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, Maliya let out the breath she was holding, placing the looking glass on the table, unable to look at herself any longer. She stepped closer, slowly picking up the box and opening it. Her fingers lightly traced the silver sun as she absently debated whether or not to wear it. She swallowed harshly. If she was going to survive here, then at least part of her needed to accept her new life as a Stark. The other part would always be a Targaryen and a Martell. An arranged marriage would never change that.

A knock sounded at her door. Maliya snapped the box shut and quickly walked over to shove it in her trunk before arranging herself and turning towards the door. "Come in!" She called. "Hello Uncle," she greeted as he stepped in the room and shut the door. A strange look came over his face as he took her in, and for the first time in her entire life, she realized her uncle was speechless.

"You look like your mother," he murmured softly, his voice slightly hoarse. Maliya thought she noticed a sheen of tears in his wide eyes and pained smile, but he blinked and it was gone before she could be positive.

The thought added a hint of sadness to her anger and frustration, causing her to look away, a lump in her throat. "I wish I had known her."

"So do I, sweet girl." Oberyn gave her a melancholy smile, stepping further into the room, putting a bag on her bed and pulling her into a tight hug. Maliya sighed, wrapping her arms around his waist and trying to swallow the burning lump in her throat. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and stepped back. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," she shrugged, trying to put on a brave face. He raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her, knowing her well enough to tell when she wasn't being truthful. "Part of me may or may not be regretting this whole plan."

Her uncle chuckled. "Of course you are, your plan was absolutely insane. I still have difficulty believing that you thought your father would agree to let his precious eight and ten year old daughter traverse across Westeros to live with the Baratheons and the Lannisters." Maliya tossed him a glare and he raised his hands in defense. "While your father might not agree," he continued. "I fully support your need for revenge, as long as you're smart about it. It won't avenge your families death if you get yourself killed."

"It doesn't matter as much anymore as you're marrying me off to a Stark and I'm stuck in this frozen wasteland."

Oberyn noted her snarky attitude and grinned. "You're not going to let this new husband of yours off easy are you?"

Maliya struggled not to flinch at the word, 'husband,' forcing herself to smile back at him. "He already seems to think I'm a selfish, spoiled princess. I wonder how long I can keep that going for…" Maliya mused thoughtfully.

"Don't torture your new husband for your enjoyment – at least not too much," Oberyn laughed. "Keep in mind that you are here representing Dorne." She nodded seriously. "I'm proud of you and the way you're handling this, Maliya, and I know you're father is as well."

"Thanks Uncle Oberyn," she murmured softly.

"I have something for you," he told her, going over to the bag he placed on the bed and opening it. He pulled out a deep orange cloak and held it out so she could see. It was a heavier cloak designed for the north, and on the back was the red Martell sun. "It your maiden's cloak, which represents our family during the marriage ceremony. Ned Stark and I have decided that the ceremony will be a combination of both the old ways and the new." He continued to explain how the ceremony would proceed and Maliya forced herself to pay attention. Maliya's heart plummeted in her chest before it began beating rapidly as her uncle said, "Are you ready, dear girl?"

"Yes," Maliya croaked, nodding. She cleared her throat. "Yes," she repeated in a firm voice. Her shoulders unconsciously straightened, her eyes staring straight ahead as her uncle helped her fasten on her cloak.

He offered her his elbow as well as a reassuring smile that was tinged with sadness. It did nothing to calm her still rapidly beating heart, the only sign of how nervous she was – she wouldn't let anyone see past the blank expression she was currently wearing.

They walked silently out of the room, through the castle and towards the godswood. Maliya lost her breath as they approached the weirwood heart tree, the scene imprinted on her mind as one she would never forget. A small group of people were waiting for them, most of them carrying torches that threw light upon the tree, making it look intimidating, as if reminding her that she didn't belong here.

She recognized the Starks waiting on one side, varying expressions on their faces as she approached. She could practically _feel_ Sansa beaming at her as well as the cold indifference from Lady Stark. She didn't recognize a lot of the people on the other side of the crowd, but she assumed they were friends of the family – at least many of them were smiling at her.

Finally, after she had looked at everything else, she allowed herself to look at the foot of the tree, where Lord Stark was standing with Robb and a man who she guessed was the Septon of Winterfell. She looked to Lord Stark first, who gave her the smallest of smiles as she approached before looking to her betrothed. Robb's expression was familiar. It matched hers directly – a blank mask hiding any and all emotion save the icy expression in his bright blue eyes, which seemed to glint at her in the shadows of the firelight.

Their eyes remained locked until she came to a stop in front of them. It was strange, but it was as if everything else for that moment faded away, a different kind of fog than the one that had taken over her in the crypts. She only blinked when Uncle Oberyn casually laid a hand over hers, which was clenching his arm tightly. She forced herself to take a deep breath, loosening her grip and tearing her gaze from Robb, turning her attention to Lord Stark instead.

"Who comes before the gods this night?" Lord Stark asked in a slightly louder than normal voice so that all could hear.

"Maliya, of the house Martell," her uncle answered, and Maliya was suddenly struck by the differences in accents. "Comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Robb of the house Stark," Robb answered, stepping forward slightly, his voice clear and unwavering. "Heir to Winterfell and Warden of the North. Who gives her?"

"Oberyn of house Martell, who is her uncle."

Lord Stark spoke once more. "Princess Maliya, will you take this man?"

 _No!_ Maliya wanted to scream. _I didn't agree to this wedding and I don't want to marry a stranger or a traitor! I don't want to share a bed with him, I don't want to spread my legs for him and I don't want to carry his children!_

"I take this man," Maliya answered instead, her voice as calm as Robb's.

Robb stepped forward as her Uncle stepped back. Maliya immediately missed his warmth. Robb carefully removed the Martell cloak from her shoulders and handed it to her uncle, taking the white Stark cloak with the large direwolf symbol from his mother and replacing it. He stood by her side again reaching for her hand as they faced Lord Stark. Robb's hands were cold as both of them held hands as loosely as possible to avoid as much contact as possible.

The Septon stepped forward and tied a scarlet ribbon around their hands, saying, "Let it be known that Robb of house Stark and Maliya of house Martell are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who seek to tear them asunder. I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity."

 _Eternity….eternity….eternity…_ His words bounced around the inside of her head and she watched, feeling as if everything was moving in slow motion, as the Septon pulled the ribbon to untie it.

"Face each other and say the words."

They did as they were told, Robb holding her other hand now as well. "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…"

"I am hers and she is mine. From this day until the end of all days."

"I am his and he is mine. From this day until the end of all days."

"With this kiss, I pledge my love," Robb announced, looking down at her with half his face in shadow. Maliya's eyes widened slightly, her hands twitching within his as he swiftly lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. It was over quickly, barely a brush of the lips, barely enough to be called a kiss, but it was enough apparently, because he straightened and the crowd applauded.

 _I'm married._ The panic settled over her but as with everything else at the moment, she internalized it. She must have blacked out for a few moments, because the next thing she was aware of she was sitting in the Great Hall next to Robb, a plate full of food in front of her and the laughing, talking people of Winterfell sitting at the tables below her.

"Welcome back," Uncle Oberyn murmured to her softly from her left.

She glanced at Robb on her other side and noticed that he was deep in conversation with his father. Lady Stark was on the other side of him and the rest of the Stark children, including Jon, was sitting and the table in front of them. "Sorry," she winced, turning back to Oberyn. "How bad was it?"

"It was actually quite impressive. Your smile may have looked a little forced to me, but you were thanking everybody after they congratulated you quite well. The food is heavier, and more bland than what we are used to but you should eat something," he continued, nodding toward her plate. "You have a long night ahead of you."

The comment was made innocently enough, for her uncle at least, but the added reminder of what was to come made her appetite flee. She picked at the food on her plate, busying herself with watching the people instead. Most everyone was already deep into their cups, the noise and laughter around them only growing louder. As people began to finish their food, the tables were pushed to either side of the hall.

The faces turned to the head of the table. She was just wondering what they were waiting for when she saw Robb look at her out of the corner of her eye. He stood, holding his hand out to her, his face unreadable. "Shall we dance?" He asked.

"Of course," Maliya answered, forcing a smile and putting her hand in his once more. Applause broke out as he led her onto the dance floor. When they reached the middle, he stopped, her left hand still in his as he slid his other hand around her waist, her hand going to his shoulder. The music began and he guided her through a series of unfamiliar steps to an unfamiliar song. The combination of the fact that he was a surprisingly good dancer and the song was simple allowed her to learn the steps quite quickly. Luckily other people began to dance along with them and they were no longer the center of attention.

Once she was able to stop focusing on what she was doing, Maliya surveyed her new husband closely. "You could at least pretend to look happy, you know," she murmured to him softly so they wouldn't be overheard. "Maybe smile every once in a while."

"Sorry, I wasn't taught how to put on an act and lie," he responded quickly, the words were casually said, betraying exactly what he thought about both her and the way she was raised.

"I've heard things about you, Robb Stark," Maliya told him as they continued to dance. All around them people were dancing, laughing and having a wonderful time, and here she was on her wedding day, and all she wanted to do was pretend like nothing happened and go home. "They say that you're fair and just, that you take after your father. Yet all you've done since I've gotten here is judge me."

Robb's gaze swung back to hers as he blinked, looking slightly stunned. "You're right," he admitted begrudgingly. "I'm sorry."

She accepted the apology, though she was a bit surprised by it. "There was some truth in what you said, I must admit. I'm sure you've had to deal with this in some regard, but as a princess of Dorne, I was taught to control my expressions and my reactions when dealing with certain situations so as not to offend anyone important. I learned from my father who is the hardest person to read. I never can tell what he is thinking."

"Yeah I guess I can understand – "

"May I cut in?" Malaya looked over her shoulder to see Lord Stark standing there, that same small smile on his face.

Robb looked to Maliya who smiled back and replied, "I would be honored, My Lord." Robb gave her a strained smile, turned to leave and then seemed to remember his manners and turned back, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, murmuring, "My Lady." The whole thing felt very awkward.

Lord Stark took his sons place. When he gently grasped her hand, Maliya looking away, clenching her teeth and trying not to think of all the Targaryen blood that he must have spilled. "I remember my wedding like it was yesterday. We were a lot like you two," Lord Stark began, broaching the silence. "Thrust into a marriage with a stranger, both of us trying to do our duties to our family. It was scary, awkward and at times unfair. But as time went on, we learned more about each other. Our respect and eventually our love for each other grew into the family that you see today. I think our situation was a little more awkward than yours, though."

"Why do you say that?" Maliya asked, curious despite herself.

Lord Stark grinned, leaning closer slightly. "Lady Stark wasn't even supposed to marry me. She was originally betrothed to my older brother."

Maliya's eyes widened. "Really? What happened? Did one not find the other attractive enough?" She joked, grinning.

Lord Stark's mood sobered instantly, leaving Maliya confused. "It matters not," he dismissed, twirling her. "Just know that things between you and Robb will not always be this way. If you both work at it you will find that you have a partner for life."

Maliya nodded slowly though her brain was still trying to figure out his odd behavior. She wracked her brain, trying to think, and then suddenly it came to her. "Your brother was Brandon Stark."

"Yes," Lord Stark answered, and in that one word, Maliya heard years of pain, grief and anger. Brandon Stark had marched to Kings Landing after her father had supposedly abducted Lyanna in an attempt to rescue her. The Mad King charged him with treason and if she wasn't mistaken, forced him to watch his own father burn alive before he was strangled himself. It was an eye opening thought, one she had never had before, but for the first time she had to acknowledge the fact that the Stark's might have also dealt with the consequences of her fathers actions during the Usurpers Rebellion.

Maliya looked at Lord Stark in a whole new light. In a short period of time he had lost his father, his brother and his sister. How had that changed him? How was he able to just accept it and move on? She opened her mouth to ask him but shut it almost immediately. She didn't know this man and asking him that question might make him curious, which was just too dangerous.

Lord Stark changed the subject to something trivial like how she was liking Winterfell and she felt herself withdrawing once more. Half of her was focused on the conversation while the other half looked around the room as they danced. She frowned when on a particular twirl she caught sight of her uncle and Robb having what looked like a very intense conversation? What in the seven hells was her uncle up to?

* * *

 **Robb's Pov**

"Uh oh. You have your thinking face on. That's never a good sign." Robb looked up from where he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, seeing his brother Jon approach him. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," Robb chuckled casually. "Just watching the people dance."

"Liar," Jon snorted. "Your eyes have been glued to your bride since you left the dance floor." Robb didn't attempt to deny it, and both of them looked at the Princess again. Greatjon Umber had taken their father's place and was currently leading Maliya in an over exaggerated, ridiculous dance around the dance floor. They could hear Maliya's laughter across the room, the grin across her face breathtaking. "She is beautiful, isn't she?" Jon teased, nudging his older brother with his elbow.

"I can't argue with you there," Robb murmured. He had to admit that he had been stunned by the sight of her when she had approached the godswood with her uncle. The dress showed off her womanly body, a fact that Robb couldn't help but notice. Her face was beautiful as well, with her full lips and high cheekbones, but he felt as if her deep brown eyes were always so guarded.

"Many men would kill to be married to such a woman," Jon continued, watching his brother closely. "So why do you look as if someone has died?"

"I always believed that I would marry for love and yet here I am with a bride I don't know." The unfairness of it all still burned within him.

"It's more than that, isn't it?" Jon guessed.

Robb sighed. "I feel like every time I look at her, she's hiding something. Like I can't see who she really is."

"That's because you don't know who she really is," Jon reminded him gently. "She hasn't even been here a full three days, Robb, and you can't blame her for being guarded or cautious. Do you really think she wanted to marry your ugly arse?" Robb snorted, his somber mood breaking as he playfully punched Jon on the arm. "Seriously though," Jon continued, grinning. "I quite like her. She's not afraid to speak her mind and stand up for what she believes is right. Did you know that she is the only reason I'm here right now? She went up against your mother, something about wanting all of her betrothed's family present at the wedding."

Robb's eyes flickered to the head of the table where her mother was still sitting, watching the proceedings with a stiff expression on her face. "No wonder she looks so pleased," he muttered. Guilt trickled through him. "Listen, Jon, I should have – "

"Don't worry about it," Jon waved, cutting him off. "She's your mother, Robb, and you shouldn't have to fight my battles for me."

Robb reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eye. "You're my brother, Jon, and I'm really glad you're here. Even if I wish I wasn't."

"Let us speak of easier things," Jon smiled, his grey eyes twinkling. "Are you looking forward to finally becoming a man tonight?"

"Well it seems like I've entered an interesting conversation." Robb's eyes widened, his heart nearly stopping in his chest as he recognized the deep, accented voice. Sure enough, when he looked over his shoulder, Prince Oberyn was standing there, an amused look on his face, but a steely look in his eyes.

"Prince Oberyn! I – I didn't – " Jon stammered, bright red.

"Don't worry about it, Jon Snow. If you would please excuse us, I would like a word with young Robb here." Jon sent Robb an apologetic shrug and a good luck glance before disappearing into the crowd.

Resigned, Robb turned to face Oberyn fully. "I apologize, My Lord, we didn't mean – "

"I may be old, but I remember what it was like to be your age." He frowned, looking back out on the dance floor, his eyes on his niece. "Normally I would eagerly join in your conversations about women, believe me, but when the topic of discussion is my niece… well I'm sure you can understand my feelings on the subject."

"Of course, My Lord," Robb answered in a firm voice. Maliya had seemed to notice their conversation, and was sending them curious glances, her lips pulled down into a frown.

"In a perfect world, my brother Doran and I would keep Maliya close to home." A fond, easy smile crossed Oberyn's lips and Robb felt himself relax slightly, certain the danger had passed. "She's one of a kind, our Maliya. A large heart, a mischievous sense of adventure, a competitive streak that will take your breath away and a loyalty that will never be questioned. Not to mention her mother's beauty," Oberyn murmured in a soft, melancholy voice. Robb found himself hanging on to his every word, intrigued of this side of his bride that he had yet to see. "A word of advice, Young Wolf?" Robb looked over to him, but Oberyn still had his eyes on Maliya. "Treat Maliya as your partner, your equal in all things. She is no ordinary woman and she has an unrivaled temper that you don't want to find yourself on the other side of."

"She sounds like an interesting woman," Robb told him. He could practically feel the love he had for his niece and Robb had to admit the thought was reassuring.

"Your life won't be boring, that's for damn sure," Oberyn laughed. Robb began to smile along with him, when Oberyn's mood abruptly changed, his hand shooting out to grip Robb's shoulder tightly. Robb fought not to wince at the Prince's iron-like grip. "Let's get one thing straight, Robb Stark. Tonight will be the one and only time that you hurt my niece. You will hurt her, it is inevitable and not your fault, but that is your only free pass. If I hear that you have hurt her in any other way…." A cruel smile that didn't quite reach his cold eyes lit his face. "I will come find you. Alliances be damned."

Robb stood straight, looking the intimidating man in the eye and refusing to show anything other than determination and appreciation for the severity of the situation he found himself in. "I understand, Prince Oberyn. I will treat your niece with nothing other than the respect that she deserves."

Oberyn held his gaze for a long moment, searching. Robb held his breath, waiting what seemed like an eternity, until Oberyn finally grinned once more, releasing his grip and clapping him on the shoulder good-naturedly. "I hope so, for your sake. Now if you'll excuse me."

Robb waited until he was out of sight before releasing his breath, rolling his shoulder with a wince as his rapidly beating heart finally began to slow. The Red Viper was with a doubt one of the most terrifying men he'd ever met, not only because of his skill with a blade but also with how quickly his mood changes. Robb believed the threats that he hadn't bothered to disguise, but instead of being angry and indignant at being threatened, he thought he could sympathize with his position. Oberyn was leaving his niece thousands of leagues away from home in an unfamiliar place with people he didn't trust.

Robb pushed off the wall and headed up to the head table. After that encounter he needed a drink.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

"It's time for the bedding ceremony!" Someone from the crowd roared, making Maliya's heart nearly stop in her chest as her body went cold.

She looked up with wide eyes from where she was chatting with Sansa before quickly rearranging her face to a neutral expression. Multiple people cheered, catcalling and laughing loudly, but everyone quieted when Lord Stark stood and raised his hand. "Due to the circumstances of this marriage and out of respect for the bride and groom, there will be no bedding ceremony tonight." Maliya was so relieved that she could have kissed Lord Stark at that moment, not that she would ever even attempt to. She was careful not to change her expression as he continued. "Let us congratulate Robb and Maliya Stark – " Maliya nearly blanched at her new name. " – on their wedding as they retire to their bedchambers."

There was more cheering and clapping as well as some jeering. The woman sent her pitying looks as she stood and made her way over to Robb, which were almost as bad as the jeering. Robb was smiling graciously at the crowd so Maliya forced herself to do the same. With a wave of his hand, Robb guided her out of the Great Hall as he led her up the stairs. She was confused at first when they were heading in the opposite direction of her bedchambers, then stupidly realized that she would now be sharing not only his bed but also his bedchambers.

They walked in silence, which lingered thick between them. Robb was the one who broke the silence as they paused in front of the door. "You can go on inside. I'm going to visit the privy for a moment."

Maliya nodded and opened the door, relieved once more that he was giving her the opportunity to prepare herself for what was to come. She shut the door behind her, taking a moment to look around. His bedchambers were bigger than hers, the bed was larger and the furs more comfortable. There were small, personal touches that claimed the room as his. A sword and shield resting in the corner of the room, a drawing from Rickon on the wall and carved figurines that looked like they hadn't been touched in a while. She also noticed her own trunk sitting at the foot of the bed.

She noticed a small writing table off to the side with a pitcher of wine and two glasses. She picked one up and filled it, taking a gulp in an attempt to calm her nerves. The taste was so different and foreign than the wine back home that she made a disgusted face as she swallowed and put the cup back down.

Maliya paced the length of the room, unable to determine what was wrong with her. Arianne, Tyene and the rest of the Sand Snakes never held back on the details of their sexual escapades and they had more than made Maliya aware of what to expect for her first time. So why was her heart trying to escape out of her chest, her breath coming out in pants and her head felt lightheaded?

Feeling incredibly awkward and out of place, more unsure of herself than she could ever remember being, Maliya attempted to start to unlace the back of her dress. She tried to pull the strings but her arms were bent in a painful angle and reaching over her shoulders didn't work either.

Cursing darkly under her breath, Maliya continued to struggle, growing more panicked and angry as she continued to fail.

"Here, let me help you." Maliya gasped, startled, and whirled around to Robb Stark entering the room. "I'm sorry," he apologized quickly, eyes wide at her reaction and his hands held out to his sides. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

Maliya pressed a hand to her chest and took a deep breath. "I didn't hear you come in."

Robb hesitated for a moment before stepping further into the room. He gestured to the dress. "Can I help you?" Nodding slowly, Maliya turned around, bringing her hair around in front of her, her eyes on the floor. She jumped slightly when she felt his fingers brush the top of her back as he began to undo the lacings. "Sorry," he murmured again, his deep voice closer than she had thought.

He was careful not to touch her bare skin again, something she was thankful for. She felt the dress sag when he finally finished and quickly raised her arms to hold it against her chest. She stepped away from him and slowly turned around to look at him. He looked a little pale in the darkness of the room but his bright blue eyes were watching her intently. Feeling as if she was about to pass out, Maliya took a deep breath, briefly closed her eyes, and allowed the dress to slowly slide down her body so she was standing in just her slip.

His eyes stayed on hers a moment longer before losing the battle and briefly roaming her body. She thought she saw his icy blue eyes darken slightly but it might have a trick of the light. He stepped forward until he was standing right in front of her, making her give the smallest of flinches.

 _Seven hells, Maliya, pull yourself together!_ She chided angrily, steeling herself.

Robb towered over her, forcing her to look up at him, which she didn't like, feeling vulnerable. He slowly raised a hand to gently cup her cheek and began bending down to kiss her. She shut her eyes in expectation, her entire body feeling panicky and his lips had just barely brushed hers when his presence was suddenly gone.

Blinking in confusion, Maliya looked around to see him standing on the other side of the room looking both resigned and frustrated. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"You don't want this," he told her, shaking his head.

"What?" Maliya gasped, her heart dropping. "I – of course I do! We're married now, it's my duty as your wife – "

"You might say you want to," Robb interrupted seriously, looking over at her. "But your body tells me otherwise. Did you know that you flinched away from me four times tonight?"

"That doesn't matter," Maliya dismissed, internally cursing herself. "We need to – "

"We don't _need_ to do anything," Robb disagreed.

"So what are you saying?" Maliya demanded, eyes narrowing. "You don't want me?"

Robb gaped at her. "Want you? Of course I want you! Look at yourself," he gestured, eyes brushing over her body once more. "I am not the type of person that can take someone against their will."

Maliya scowled at him, almost unable to believe what was happening. "I do want this!" She growled, striding over to him. "I'll show you," she muttered, before grabbing either side of his face and crashing his lips to hers.

This kiss was in a completely different world than the previous brief, touches of their lips. Maliya's agitation was evident as her lips claimed his, forcing him to respond. And respond he did. Their lips moved fluidly as one in a fast, bruising pace. Maliya nipped his bottom lip, swallowing his groan and joining their tongues together in the battle. Maliya may have been a maid, but she prided herself on her kissing ability and had many years of experience.

Robb's hands, which had shot out to grip her hips, moved. One came up to tangle in the back of her hair, but the other traveled up her side, brushing against her breast. Maliya froze for the briefest of moments at the new, unexpected touch and she instantly knew she had made a mistake.

Sure enough, Robb pulled away, his face flush and his eyes bright. He shook his head, clearing his throat and taking a full step back. "I will not have sex with you until it is something that you want for yourself, not because tradition dictates what is supposed to happen on our wedding night."

Maliya recognized the steely glint in his eyes and knew this was a fight that she wouldn't win. She said nothing, watching him as he stepped around her and up to the bed, pulling back the furs to reveal the white sheet underneath. He took of his cloak and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, pulling a small dagger out of the drawer of the bedside table.

"What are you doing?" She demanded as he proceeded to cut a line above the crook of his elbow, holding his arm out so the blood dripped onto the sheets below.

"Certain things happen when a man takes a woman's maidenhead," Robb answered, putting the dagger away and smearing the blood a little bit. She rolled her eyes at both his answer and the fact that she didn't think of that beforehand. "The blood is on my side. It's been a long day – we should both get some sleep."

With that, Robb blew out the candles in his bedchambers, stripped down to his small clothes and got into bed, pulling the furs around him. Feeling extremely confused, Maliya hesitantly got into the bed, rolling away from him and curling in on herself.

The rumors were true. Her husband was an honorable man and while a large part of her was relieved with the way things went tonight, another part of her felt like she had already completely failed as a wife. Like she let her family down because she was too scared of something as simple as sex. What the hell was wrong with her?

As Maliya Stark closed her eyes, a single tear dripped out of the corner of her eye.

 _The images were tangled and confusing. A crowd of people roaring it's approval, a scream filled with fury and grief, the wail of a newborn baby, a flash of an white oval object with gold veins running through it, a deep feeling of hatred, mistrust and helplessness and above all, the roar of a terrifying, gigantic beast._

* * *

 **Author's Note: Wow that was long! Hope everyone didn't mind. I'm really excited about this chapter and would love to hear your feedback! I would love to hear your thoughts and predictions about where this story might be going!**

 **Thank you all for being so patient with me :)**

Jem - Thanks for your review! I have taken everyone's opinion about the direwolf/shadowcat situation into consideration but you won't know my decision until you read it!

Deiron Lionheart - Thanks for reviewing, I liked your ideas about the different direwolves!

Guest - I couldn't picture Maliya and Robb, who want nothing to do with this arranged marriage, suddenly getting along and being happy with the situation. So they're going to butt heads quite a few times in the upcoming chapters! Thanks for reviewing, I appreciated the opportunity to read your thoughts!

Guest 2 - Thanks for the review, I'm glad you love the story so far!


	5. Hatred vs Hope

**Author's Note: Hey guys! Good news, grad school is finishing up so I should have more time to devote to this story** **As of right now, I'm switching off updating this story then my 100 story.**

 **This chapter is a bit long (I don't know how that happened) but I just want to say that I'm SO EXCITED for what's to come. I have so many ideas and I can't wait for you guys to read what I have planned. I hope all of you are as excited as I am – tell all your friends and don't forget to review :)**

 **Special thanks to Maddie Rose and Dannylionthe1st for my neverending questions!**

* * *

Chapter 5: Hatred Vs. Hope

 _My dearest Arianne,_

 _I cannot even begin to tell you how much I miss you and wish you were here. Life in the North is certainly different than life back home. I miss the warmth of the sun on my skin, of course, but more than that I miss the feel of the sand between my toes and the water lapping at my legs. I miss the spices they put in our foods – the meals here are so bland, and I won't even get started on the wine! The dresses here are so heavy I feel as if they weigh me down. The castle is surprisingly warm, but the moment you step outside, the cold eats at you, biting into your skin until you lose feeling in your limbs. When I mentioned it once, they said to me that this was nothing. "Winter is coming," they told me. It seems as if their words are more of a warning than a family motto._

 _I have to admit, however, that life here isn't all terrible. Sansa, the eldest girl, is only ten and three years of age but she is already a proper lady. She loves to talk about her dresses and the princes that I've met, which I surprisingly find endearing. Then there's Arya, a girl with more fire and stubbornness in her than I have ever met. She saw me shoot an arrow the other week, and now we sneak in training sessions every other day. Bran is around Trystane's age and reminds me so much of him that it hurts at times. He's curious and inquisitive and the questions he asks really makes you think. Then there's Rickon, a wild, little boy of six years old who's always seeking an adventure._

 _There's also a bastard here, named Jon, who was fathered by Lord Stark, which is confusing because I've never met a man who has higher standards of honor than he. Lady Stark, on the other hand, is cold and indifferent towards me and I fear my mouth has gotten me in trouble there as well. I find Jon is the easiest to talk to, much easier than my supposed husband._

 _It's been just under a fortnight and my husband and I have barely spoken. We sleep next to each other and are polite around the rest of his family, but by some unspoken rule, we try never to be alone with each other for too long. We've developed a pattern. I am the first one awake and out of bed when the sun rises, and he comes to bed long after I've fallen asleep. I can't help feeling that part of it is my fault. I hadn't made the best first impression and to make matters worse, we never ''did the dirty deed' as Tyene would say. I don't know what happened, Ari. It was like my body betrayed me – I just froze. He spouted some nonsense about waiting till I was ready, but he didn't want this farce of a marriage anymore than I did. It's like there's some invisible barrier between us that neither of us knows how to break through. I hate how awkward and uncomfortable it is._

Maliya paused, looking out of Robb's – _their,_ she corrected herself, chamber window. She sorely wished she could tell her sister everything. Just pour all her worries and fears out in a way that it would be lifted from her shoulders.

The first thing would be the confusing and tangled dreams that had plagued her since her wedding night. It was filled with such despair, pain and fear that it often woke Maliya up in a cold sweat, but there never any substantial images that she could remember when her eyes were open. The second thing she would write about would be the strong, peculiar pull that she felt whenever she passed by the crypts. Did she have some odd connection to the dead? Was it because of Lyanna Stark? It was a mystery that she couldn't even begin to puzzle out.

The final thing she would write about, one that made her feel both relieved and slightly guilty, was the gift that her uncle had given her the morning he had left.

"Here," he had said to her, holding out a box. When she opened it, she saw several different pouches along with a list of ingredients. Her eyes widened when she read the name at the top, and she looked up at her uncle, speechless. He nodded gravely, no amusement in his eyes for once. "Moon tea," he confirmed in a soft voice. "You have enough ingredients there to last you a long time. Drink some whenever you lay with your husband." He paused, looking at her carefully. "I know this marriage wasn't what you had in mind and I know you're frightened of being a mother. This is my gift to you. I hope that even though you have your mission here, you can eventually be happy with this new life, and maybe one day you'll find you don't need this anymore."

She had hesitantly thanked her uncle, then shoved the box at the bottom of her trunk with the other gifts the Martells had gotten her.

Sighing, Maliya dipped the quill back into the ink and began to finish up the letter.

 _Uncle Oberyn left a few days ago, so he should reach home within a month or two. I'm going to miss seeing a familiar face around here. How are Father and Trystane? And Obara, Ty and Nym? How are you? I would kill for some news of home, to hear their jokes and your wonderful advice. I bet you're rolling your eyes about how mushy this letter is!_

 _Anyway, write back quickly. We leave on the morrow for wedding celebrations in a neighboring castle, one of the sons of the Stark's bannerman. Supposedly they were at our wedding as well, but I can't remember them for the life of me. Wish me luck – I'll probably end up offending some northerner with my 'crass, southern ways.'_

 _Give everyone my love back home, and tell them that I miss them._

 _Your sister always,_

 _Maliya_

Maliya carefully sealed the envelope and stood to find a raven to deliver it. She really, really wished that Dorne wasn't so far away. She knew that it would be several weeks before she would receive Arianne's response, and she could use her advice just about now.

* * *

The next morning, Maliya had finished packing her smaller trunk for the Umber wedding and was exiting the Great Hall after breaking her fast when Rickon ran up to her, his bright eyes wide with excitement and a wide grin on his face. "Come _on_ , Lady Maliya!" He urged, grabbing her hand and tugging her back in the direction he had just come from. "We're all getting ready to go! Mother says I need to sit in the wagon with her and Sansa because I'm not old enough to ride that far yet, but I saw your horse in the stables! I've never seen a horse like him before, what's his name?"

Maliya couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "His name is Shadow. My cousin gifted him to me before I left home. He's a Dornish Sand Steed, that's why you haven't seen a horse like him. They can run for two full days and never tire."

"Wow," Rickon mouthed slowly, staring up at her in wonder. "I want a horse like that when I get older! Are you excited for the wedding? I'm not really excited for that part, but I've never left Winterfell before – it's just like an adventure, isn't Lady Maliya? Like all the ones you were telling me your uncle went on?"

Maliya ruffled his hair fondly, chuckling as he stumbled over his own two feet because he kept looking back at her with wide eyes. "I hope this adventure is the first of many for you."

Shouting reached them from the courtyard as they approached. Rickon's face became serious. "Arya's angry because mother and father won't let her ride her horse like Robb, Jon and Theon," he warned in a low voice.

Maliya's eyebrows rose. Since she had been at Winterfell, she has witnessed Arya's wrath first hand. The girl had an unrivaled temper combined with a stubbornness like nothing she had ever seen before. Maliya couldn't help but admire it – but then again, she hadn't been on the receiving end of it… yet.

By the time Rickon had pulled her out to the courtyard, she saw Arya sitting in the carriage, her arms crossed stiffly and a look of pure fury on her face. Lady Stark sat next to her looking slightly stressed along with a mildly annoyed Sansa and Bran. Lord Stark was sitting astride his horse, along with Robb, Jon and Theon and two guards that she vaguely recognized. Ser Rodrik Cassel was a stout, yet broad older man, with snow-white whiskers. If Maliya remembered correctly, he was the master at arms at Winterfell. The other man was his nephew, Jory Cassel, a younger man with a kind smile – he was the captain of Lord Stark's guard.

There was one other man sitting at the front of the carriage directing the horses, a young guard about her age who looked like he had little to no experience with a sword.

For a moment, Maliya wished that she were riding with them on Shadow. Then met Theon's disdainful sneer and Robb's indifferent glance and she realized she would rather face the wrath of Arya and the icy gaze of Lady Stark. So she looked away from her husband and followed Rickon into the carriage.

The ride to the Umber's castle was long but largely uneventful. They made small talk as they rode, taking occasional breaks to let the young ones stretch their legs. Maliya didn't think it was possible, but the air got even colder as they traveled farther north. It invaded the carriage walls, making Maliya pull her fur cloak tighter around her. She envied the Starks – they didn't even seem to notice the cold. Maliya tried to distract herself with memories of her, Arianne and Trystane frolicking on the warm, coastal beaches. Seven hells, she missed her home.

They had arrived just in time for the wedding ceremony when they reached the Umber's castle, and things moved very quickly after that. Lord Jon Umber, who was apparently called the "Greatjon" greeted them all with his booming voice and wide grin. As soon as Maliya saw him, she remembered him from her own wedding (she still couldn't get used to saying that). He was the large man who had danced her around the Great Hall and actually made her genuinely laugh and forget about her current situation.

"Hello Lady Catelyn, welcome Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon. Ah, and there is the beautiful princess of Dorne!" She widened her eyes in surprise as he pulled her into a jovial hug. "Come, come meet my family! The rest of the Starks are bloody sick of us, I'm sure."

"Don't be ridiculous, Lord Umber," Catelyn jumped in, smiling at him. "We enjoy your visits, and besides, it's been a while since we've seen some of your children."

"You're too kind, My Lady," Lord Umber chuckled. "This here's my firstborn son and heir, Smalljon, and my other son Russal. And my daughters, Delylah and Teena. I'd like you all to meet the new Lady Stark." All of the Greatjon's children were very tall and fierce looking, but they all smiled at her, the women curtsying. The oldest woman, a girl maybe a few years older than her, had a young infant resting in her arms, rocking it slowly.

"Robb - Where is Robb?" He asked, looking around.

"Here," Robb answered, sliding off his horse with the other men.

Greatjon shook hands with him and Lord Stark, greeting them happily. "And how is married life treating you, Young Robb?"

Robb's eyes flickered to her for the briefest of seconds. "Very well, my Lord, thank you for asking," Robb answered politely.

 _Liar,_ Maliya thought grimly, though she kept her smile on her face.

"Good, good. Well, I'm sure you all must be weary from your ride!" Greatjon boomed, looking around at them all. "We will show you to your rooms so you can all freshen up and the wedding ceremony will begin within the hour!"

Servants came pouring out of the castle as the Greatjon spoke, some of them going to the carriage to grab their trunks and some of them to show them to their rooms.

"My lord and lady Stark," an older woman greeted them, curtsying and keeping her eyes downcast. "If you would follow me, I will show you to your chambers." Without glancing at her this time, Robb offered her his arm, which she took, and they followed her inside the Umber's castle.

The three of them were silent as they made their way through the castle. Maliya kept a pleasant look on her face but on the inside she felt like her skin was crawling. Her hand was resting as lightly as she could make it on her husband's arm, but even still it felt awkward and uncomfortable. Her husband, meanwhile, had a blank expression on his face as he pointedly ignored her. The silence was pounding in her ears and all she wanted to do was put her hands over her them and scream.

 _How did we get to this point?_ Maliya asked herself, mystified. _At what point after the wedding night did we both decide that ignoring each other was the best option?_ It hadn't even been a fortnight since she had been married, but she knew that she couldn't handle this for much longer. _What would they do if I just ran away? Slipped into the night and made my way back home?_

Maliya entertained the idea for a moment, pictured herself stealing a horse from the stables and riding so fast that her hair streamed in the wind behind her. She pictured the wide, triumphant grin across her face the feeling of her freedom swelling in her chest.

"Here we are," the servant said, holding her arm out towards a door. Maliya blinked, slamming back into reality so quickly and abruptly that she almost wanted to cry at the unfairness of it.

She dimly heard her husband thanking the servant for her help and then they were alone. Maliya took a moment to observe their chambers, which were nice but not quite as nice as the ones back in Winterfell. Her husband had moved to the window in the meantime and Maliya briefly glanced at his back, taking in his broad shoulders and tense, stiff posture.

Stifling a sigh, Maliya walked over to the trunks that had been delivered and opened hers, pulling out the dress that she had brought for the wedding, a deep green that complimented her olive toned skin nicely. She stepped behind the screen in the corner of the room and began to change out of the traveling dress she had chosen to come here in. She hung the dress over the side of the screen and began to pull the green one on. She had just pulled it up, slipping her arms into the sleeves when her eyes slammed shut, realizing too late that, like a fool, she had brought a dress that needed to be laced up in the back.

How could she have been so stupid? She debated what to do for half a second. The only other dress she brought with her was another traveling dress for the following day and it was nowhere near appropriate for the wedding of a lord's son. Cursing under her breath, she realized there was no other choice, she was going to have to ask her dear husband for help.

She had to work to plaster a smile on her face, and she wondered if it looked as forced as it felt. "Robb?" She called in an easygoing voice, holding the loose dress up to her chest as she stepped out from behind the screen. He turned to face her, his icy blue eyes emotionlessly taking her in. "I accidentally brought a dress with lacings in the back. Would you mind helping me?"

"Of course," he nodded once. She hid the roll of her eyes as she turned around, bringing her hair over one shoulder and exposing most of her back to him. Her back and shoulders were stiff as he swiftly did up the laces, taking care not to touch her bare skin. "There," he said, once he finished, stepping back quickly, his voice sounding off for some reason.

Sighing, feeling helpless, she turned to face him once more. "Robb – " she began, but he spoke at the same time as her.

"Are you ready to go?" She didn't know what nonsense was about to come out of her mouth, but she didn't try again, just snapping her mouth shut and nodding, falling silent once more. It was like she had written to Ari just the day previously. There was an invisible barrier between them that they both either didn't know how to break or were too scared to. It was exhausting.

But she played this strange role of a wife and pulled on her fur cloak, taking his offered arm once more as he led her out of their room. He must have visited the Umber's castle before, because he knew the twists and turns of the different corridors, guiding her out of the building and to the Godswood in the darkness of the night. The rest of the Stark family was waiting, huddled together underneath the giant tree. Others were waiting there as well, and Maliya recognized the Umber family on the other side.

"You look beautiful, My Lady," Lady Stark told her softly, causing Maliya to look at her in surprise.

"Thank you," she answered cautiously, wondering if the older woman had some ulterior motive and hating herself for it. The two of them had hardly spoken since that first incident, when she had interrupted Lady Stark and Jon Snow.

"I love your dress," Sansa added with a bright smile. "Green is definitely your color."

Maliya's mouth curved up into a very unladylike smirk, her eyes twinkling. "You should see me in red," she whispered back, inwardly laughing at her own private joke.

The crowd was shushed at that moment, and Maliya swiveled her head to see Russal Umber's betrothed walking between the two crowds of people, her arm in her father's. Maliya watched the proceedings in silence, astounded by how similar and yet so different this wedding was to her own. The words were the same, the actions were the same, but the _emotion_ behind everything was completely different.

The bride's smile stretched across her face as she approached her soon to be husband, her eyes shimmering with an obvious happiness. Russal's eyes were watching her adoringly and he eagerly reached out his hand for hers when she stopped in front of them. When Maliya had said her words to her husband, they felt hollow and she had to force them out of her mouth. With this couple, the words were said slowly, reverently, and the kiss at the end of the ceremony lasted to the point of inappropriateness. Sansa blushed watching it, hiding a giggle behind her hand, and there were twin looks of disgust on Bran and Arya's face.

There was a loud cough from the Greatjon and the two finally broke apart, gasping for air and beaming. Maliya was delayed in joining the clapping with the rest of the audience, such was her shock and bewilderment. It was obvious that the pair either loved each other or at least knew one another before the wedding. She wondered what her life would be like if she had been allowed to marry a man of her choosing, someone that she loved or had a deep respect for. Would she have been eager for the bedding ceremony? Would she have felt that desire to lay with her husband, or looked forward to carrying his sons or daughters? Would the constant resentment and regret disappear from her everyday life?

Maliya was lost in her own thoughts as she followed the chatting guests back into the dining hall for the wedding feast. She was seated next to her husband with all the rest of the Starks at a table just below the Umber family. The only ones not with them were Jon and Theon, who were sitting somewhere towards the back of the room.

Several courses of food were served, similar to what was served at her own wedding. She was able to eat much more of it this time around, though she didn't touch the red wine in front of her. Sansa, thankfully, was sitting on the other side of her so she concentrated on making small talk with her in order to distract herself from her husband ignoring her on her other side.

Shortly afterwards, the tables were pushed back and the beaming couple made their way down to the dance floor. Maliya watched them closely, noting the reverent way they held each other as they danced, the happiness clearly written on their faces.

"My Lady?" Maliya blinked back to reality, looking up to see a young man maybe a few years older than her standing there, looking at her expectantly.

"Pardon?" She asked, both looking and sounding bewildered.

The man didn't seem at all put off. If anything, his smile grew wider. "My name is Colton Umber, I'm one of Russal's cousins. I was wondering if I could interest you in a dance? A beautiful woman such as yourself should not be sitting here all alone."

 _Alone?_ Sure enough, when Maliya looked around she saw that she was one of the few people left at her table. While she had been absorbed watching the couple dance, Lord and Lady Stark went off to talk to the Umbers, a young lad had apparently asked Sansa to dance, Robb went to go find Theon and Jon and the other three younger Starks were having a covert food fight at the other end of the table. She turned back to Colton, taking in his slightly messed dark brown hair, twinkly grey eyes and flirty smile. An answering smile slowly crossed her face. As conceited as it sounded, this was a game that she knew how to play all too well. She had spent years at parties with her sister and cousins, flirting and then fending off potential pursuers. She was often called a tease because she would never lose her virginity, but she had always enjoyed the attention from the opposite sex. The lengths that they would go to in order to spend a night to her gave her a powerful, heady feeling.

"I'm married," she sighed regretfully.

His smile showed that he already knew that particular piece of information and didn't care. "I don't see him here," he smirked, looking around in a show of exaggeration. "Do you think he would mind if I borrowed his wife for a few dances?"

Her brown eyes flickered to where Robb stood with his half brother and his friend, his head thrown back in laughter, looking like he was clearly enjoying himself. Those eyes briefly narrowed in annoyance before turning back to Colton. "No… I don't think he would mind at all."

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

"So which one do you think?" Theon prodded, his eyes slightly glazed. Both of them had had several cups of wine and were feeling the pleasant buzz running through their veins. "On the one hand, the brunette has a prettier face, which will be easier to look down upon when she is spread out underneath me, but have you seen the tits on the blonde? I could always just take her on all fours so I wouldn't have to see her face…" he mused, lost in his thoughts.

Robb snorted into his cup, rolling his eyes at his friend. "It matters not to me, Theon, you always do as you please anyway."

"If the two of you don't slow down, nobody's going to have the ability to please anyone," Jon pointed out, amusement in his eyes. He was still nursing his first cup of wine. "Besides, Theon, what will you do if neither of them agree to sleep with you?"

Theon threw his head back and laughed for a full minute, a cocky smile on his face as his chortles died down. "Good one, Snow. Which one would your virginal brain pick, I wonder? My guess is the pretty face. What do you think? Is the pretty brunette enough to sway that poor cock you seem determined to torture?"

"Shove off, Theon," Robb warned, noting the flash of anger in his brother's grey eyes.

Theon's eyes narrowed in his own anger. "No, you shove off, Stark, I was just asking a question. Sorry we don't all have a beautiful, exotic princess warming our beds whom we can fuck whenever we wish." Robb clenched his jaw shut at those words, gripping his cup tightly as he looked away, his nostrils flaring.

"Don't talk about her like that – " Jon snapped, shooting his brother a glare when he remained silent.

Theon held up a hand to cut Jon off, suspicion creeping into his eyes as he stared at Robb, his anger momentarily forgotten. "You _have_ slept with her, haven't you Robb?" He asked slowly.

"Of course he has," Jon scoffed, speaking up again. "The marriage isn't complete until it's consummated, right Robb?" He looked at his brother and frowned. "Robb?"

"He hasn't!" Theon declared, his eyes widening in both disbelief and glee. "What happened Robb, did the thought of all her Dornish experience frighten you so badly that you couldn't perform?"

"Bite your tongue, Theon," Robb snapped angrily, his blue eyes flashing in annoyance. "What happens between my wife and I is none of your concern." The truth was that even though he didn't want this marriage, if Maliya had been willing on their wedding night he would have had no problem performing his duties as a husband. His swift and sudden desire for her when she had kissed him that night was not something he was like to forget. Unfortunately, he also couldn't forget the fear in her eyes or the way she tensed and flinched every time he touched her. He had spent most of his time since that night actively avoiding her to stamp out any similar reactions both in him and in herself.

Theon just laughed and shook his head, his grin widening, if possible, when his eye caught something over Robb's shoulder. He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Well, Stark, you had better start paying better attention to your wife," he warned. "Or you may find that someone else will end up fucking her first."

Frowning, Robb looked over his shoulder, following Theon's gaze. What he saw made his blue eyes flare in anger, his teeth clenching once more. If the cup in his hand had been made of glass, it would have shattered.

Through a red haze of drunken anger, he watched as some moron put his hand on the small of Maliya's back, leaning down with a smile to whisper something in her ear. Whatever he said must have amused her because she laughed, gently touching his arm as she took a sip of something from her cup.

"Who is that?" Jon asked in a low voice.

"A dead man walking," Robb growled fiercely, his eyes still glued to them.

The blonde Theon had been ogling chose that moment to walk past their table. Theon gently reached out and grasped her wrist, a seductive grin on his lips. "Hello, love. I was wondering if you could help me out for a moment. You see the girl with the black hair standing by those tables over there? Who's that man that she's talking to?"

Robb tore his gaze away to look at the blonde as she answered. To his horror, she blushed a bright red and let out a small giggle. "Oh, _him?_ That's Colton Umber, Smalljon and Russal's cousin." She sighed, watching him with dreamy eyes. "That girl should consider herself lucky," she added wistfully.

"Why?" Robb asked sharply, fist clenched.

"He was the best damn lay I've ever had. His talented tongue is as well known amongst the ladies as his extremely large – "

"Alright!" Robb interrupted quickly, not wanting to hear anymore. He slammed his cup down stood without even realizing it. "That's it, I'm – "

"Wait!" Jon interjected, grabbing Robb's arm quickly, his eyes worried. "Don't do anything stupid Robb, think this through! Your drunk, you're going to end up doing or saying something that you're going to regret – "

With a snarl of anger, Robb ripped his arm out of Jon's grip, his head swimming slightly at the sudden violent motion, and stomped off in Maliya's direction.

She actually had the audacity to smile up at him as he approached, and if he had been in his right mind he would have noticed the slightly glazed appearance in her eyes. "Hello, Robb!" She greeted happily. "Have you tried this? Colton says it's called Arbor gold and it actually tastes pretty nice. I told him that the red wine here was disgusting, it doesn't compare in any way to what we have in Dorne – "

Robb wasn't listening. The only goal in his mind was getting her as far away from this man as possible. He grabbed the arm not holding the cup, grabbing her rougher than he meant to in his drunken haze. "I need to talk to you," he told her, shooting the other man a threatening glare.

Her smile dissolved into a confused frown, as she tried to pull her arm back. "What are you doing, get your hands off me – "

"Hey, you heard the lady!" Colton interrupted angrily. "You're going to hurt her!"

Robb stared down at the hand that the other man had the audacity to place on his arm. His icy blue eyes turned dangerously dark as he stared down at Colton. "Remove your hand at once or I will break it," he threatened in a deep voice. "She is mine. She is _my_ wife and I will do with her as I please."

Maliya's mouth dropped open in outrage, her eyes narrowing in her fury. "What in the seven hells do you think you're doing, Robb Stark! Let go of me, you sorry excuse for a man – " Robb ignored her, tightening his grip as she pulled harder. The image of Colton's hand touching his wife played over and over in his head.

"Robb!" Jon's sharp, appalled voice broke through Robb's anger and he blinked, realizing what he was doing. His hand immediately let go of Maliya and she staggered back unexpectedly, her eyes widening in surprise as her arms jerked, the remaining wine in her cup flying out to splash over her chest and the front of her dress. Maliya gasped in dismay, her mouth dropping open as the four of them froze.

Her gaze darted down from her ruined dress to the audience their little display had caused and finally landed on Robb. He squirmed under the strength of her rage – was that hatred that flashed through her eyes?

With her jaw clenched and a glare that promised painful things to come, Maliya spun on her heel, skirts whirling as she stalked out of the dining hall. Robb looked after her for a moment, regret beginning to seep in. His gaze hesitantly swung around to look at Jon who was still standing next to him. There was a look of disappointment in his brother's gaze as he shook his head slowly and walked away.

Running a hand through his hair in agitation, Robb turned to follow after Maliya, intending to figure out just what in the seven hells she was playing at.

He caught up to her just as she reached the end of the corridor, wiping at her dress with her hands and muttering darkly under her breath in a language that he didn't understand. He filed that bit of information away for later perusing. She must have heard his footsteps following her down the hall because she glanced over her shoulder, a snarl crossing her face at the sight of him. "I would advise you to walk away, _dear husband_ , you're the last person I want to see right now."

Irritation made his nostrils flare. "Would you rather I was your new friend, Colton – "

She spun around to face him, making him stop short to avoid running into her. "What does it matter to you?" She snapped in a cold voice. "You've done nothing but ignore me since I became your wife – "

"You blatantly offend me and my family when you throw yourself at another man like that – "

"Throw myself?" She repeated in a loud voice, shock crossing her face. "Forgive me for enjoying a simple conversation with a man who actually showed an interest in me – "

He let out a derisive laugh, feeling like he was on the edge of losing control. He wasn't even sure what was coming out of his mouth anymore. "So are you saying you want me to paw at you and ply you with compliments like some common whore – "

He didn't even see it coming. The next thing he knew his head had snapped to the side, pain flaring in his cheek as a loud crack resounded through the corridor. She had just backhanded him across the face with a strength that he didn't think she possessed in her thin frame.

His shocked and furious gaze jumped to hers, eyes narrowed and cheek blazing with pain as he took a threatening step towards her. She didn't back away as he expected her to, nor did she look the least bit remorseful with her actions. In fact, her face was deceptively calm, though the barely restrained rage in her eyes was enough to make him hesitate. "I don't care who you are – you could be the fucking king of Westeros for all I care – but you will _never_ put your hands on my body or speak to me like that ever again, or you may wake up one day to find that you're missing a few key body parts. I will not be treated like I am one of your possessions or something to be won, and if you continue to do so, I promise that I will make your life a living hell. You can grab your trunk and find somewhere else to sleep tonight, dear husband. I can't stand the sight of you."

With one last cold, dismissive look, Maliya continued down the hallway, leaving Robb standing there looking thunderstruck and wondering what in the seven hells had just happened.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

Fury, irritation, disbelief and outrage all swirled together inside of her, battling for dominance, and clashing terribly with the lightheaded, dizzy feeling the Arbor gold had given her. What had started out as a pleasant, happy buzz had turned into a sick, nauseated mess.

 _Who did he think he was?_ Maliya raged internally, clenching and unclenching her fists. _What person in their right mind thinks that it's acceptable to ignore their wife for multiple days and then suddenly manhandle and demand things from her? And then he had the gall to look surprised at my anger! He is the reason my dress is ruined and he is the reason why I will have bruises on my arm in the morning – what a fucking prick!_

Maliya was so lost in her angry thoughts that she wasn't paying attention to where she was going. She was wandering aimlessly through the corridors, trying to find an exit that would lead her outside so she could get some fresh air and sober up. What she found instead, however, was an open window in one of the corridors. Too late, she realized she wasn't alone.

"Oh!" Maliya exclaimed, her eyes widening. "I'm sorry, I'll just go – " She began, already turning to leave.

"Don't be silly," Lady Stark told her in a quiet voice, looking over at her from where she was leaning against the corridor wall by the window. She did a double take, her eyebrows slowly rising when she saw the stain on the front of Maliya's dress. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"Oh this?" Maliya chuckled, waving her hand dismissively. "It was just an accident, I bumped into someone and my wine spilled." Maliya wasn't about to tell her what her son did – she would never take her side. Maliya shuffled uncomfortably in the resulting silence. She hesitated for a moment; within the past week she had made considerable progress with each of the Stark family, excluding Robb and Lord Stark. "I've actually been wanting to speak with you, Lady Stark."

"Oh? What about?" Lady Stark asked, turning to watch her as Maliya slowly approached.

"The night of my welcoming feast," Maliya murmured quietly, working to put a contrite look on her face. She spoke slowly, gathering her thoughts as she tried to figure out how to phrase what she was going to say in a way that wouldn't piss Lady Stark off. "I've been thinking about it quite a lot actually. I… I've had a very different upbringing in Dorne than here in the North. While I completely stand by my beliefs – I don't believe I'll ever stop standing up for the innocent children who are blamed for their parent's mistakes – I do understand that it wasn't my place to interfere, and I'm sorry that it put us off to a bad start."

There was a long, tense moment of silence as Lady Stark carefully searched Maliya's face. Maliya waited with bated breath, feeling more anxious than she felt she should. It was a relief when she started to speak. "The Stark men have always been stubborn, standing by their strong morals even if it would mean their death. What I had hoped and prayed to the gods was to find a young woman who is confident enough to not let her voice be drowned out. To be that voice questioning them when they need it, but also listening and being humble enough to apologize when they are wrong. To have the strength of character to stand by what she believes in." She paused, her face and voice softening. "I believe that the gods may have answered my prayers."

"Can we try and begin again?" Maliya asked, tilting her head to the side as a small smile crossed her face. "I know that Robb has lessons with Lord Stark about how to be the Lord of Winterfell and the Lord Paramount of the North. Would you… would you mind teaching me about what you do? How to run a household? I'd like to start helping out more."

Lady Stark's smiled was more reserved than Maliya would have hoped for, but at least she smiled, linking her arm with Maliya as they turned back towards the corridor. "I think I would love that," she answered. "I take it that you have settled into your new life at Winterfell then?"

"I think so," Maliya lied in an easy voice, adding a little uncertainty onto her face for effect. "It's still really hard being so far away from my family, and I'm pretty sure I could live for a hundred years and still never grow accustomed to this cold." She felt pleased when Lady Stark chuckled. "But for the most part, everybody has been very gracious and welcoming." _Apart from you and your son,_ she added silently.

"I am glad. Even if you were not pleased with the match to begin with, I hope that you can eventually be happy."

"Just as you were?" Maliya asked innocently. "Lord Stark told me you and him were not originally betrothed."

"He told you that?" Lady Stark asked in surprise. "Yes, I was originally betrothed to his brother Brandon. I didn't always believe our marriage would be a happy one. When he died, my sister Lysa and I were married in a double ceremony. It turns we conceived Robb on our wedding night. I gave birth to our first child and began to raise him on our own. When Ned finally returned home, he was carrying another woman's child in his arms."

The words were delivered casually, but Maliya was so thunderstruck that she had stopped walking and stood there, gaping at Lady Stark. She couldn't even begin to imagine what that must have been like for her. When she tried to picture becoming pregnant on her wedding night, have her husband abandon her to war, givebirth and begin to raise her first child by herself and then feeling hopeful when her husband returns only to feel betrayed by him when he does.

 _She must have felt so abandoned….so betrayed._ "How old were you?" Maliya asked quietly.

"Younger than you," Lady Stark confirmed, taking note of Maliya's attentiveness and seeming to appreciate it.

"How did you forgive him?" Maliya asked. She couldn't even imagine forgiving Robb at this moment and he didn't do anything close to what his father did.

"It was one of the hardest things I've ever done," Lady Stark told her honestly, still looking pained by the thought of it. "It took everything I had within me but it took _time_ most of all. Ned and I slowly grew to know and understand one another. We became friends first, and as our family expanded, so did our love. The forgiveness came with time as well."

Maliya nodded slowly, though she didn't believe that Lady Stark had fully forgiven her husband. If she had, she would have no reason to treat Jon the way she did. To Maliya, it looked like Lady Stark was taking out her anger with her husband on Jon, the innocent child in the situation. Knowing that, Maliya understood that she would never fully like Lady Stark. Her treatment of Jon and bastards in general was something that she would simply not be able to forget.

Lady Stark interrupted Maliya's swirling and conflicted thoughts. "Are you coming back to the feast?"

A wave of exhaustion swept over her at the thought. "No, I think I'm going to retire early for the night. I'm afraid the journey here has made me very weary."

Lady Stark nodded with an understanding smile. "Sleep well. Shall I let Robb know – "

"No!" Maliya interrupted quickly, shocking the older woman into silence. "Uh, I don't want to bother him – let him enjoy the festivities," she amended quickly, hoping to disarm her with a smile.

Lady Stark nodded again, though she looked slightly confused by Maliya's behavior. Thankfully, however, Lady Stark didn't question it. They said their good nights and parted ways. It took Maliya an absurd amount of time to find the chambers she was sharing with Robb, and then even longer to attempt to unlace the back of her dress. Luckily, it was easier to unlace the dress than it was to lace it.

She gratefully climbed into the bed, sighing at both the peace and quiet and the soft warmth of the furs. She had just begun to drift off into unconsciousness, when the door to the room quietly opened. Her body tensed but her eyes remained closed, her ears straining for any sort of noise. Robb – she was assuming it was him – fumbled around the room in the darkness, cursing swiftly under his breath when he kept bumping into the furniture.

 _Was he too drunk to understand me when I told him to sleep elsewhere tonight?_ Maliya fumed silently. _If he dares to climb into this bed, I might just attack him._

He didn't, however. He just took one of the extra fur blankets and a pillow and spread it out onto the floor. Maliya listened to him shifting restlessly, attempting to get comfortable on the hard floor, but Maliya didn't feel sorry for him one bit. After what he did, he could spend the night with the horses for all she cared.

All she cared about was getting a good night's sleep for the first time since her wedding night. Because no matter how hard she tried, she just could not get used to sleeping with another person in the bed.

* * *

Maliya seriously didn't think that things between her and Robb could get any worse, but life seemed determined to prove her wrong. She had a fitful night's sleep, unfortunately. Apparently, when Robb gets drunk, he also tends to snore. Maliya tried holding a pillow over her ears, thinking calming thoughts and even resorted to throwing things at him, but he only snorted and rolled over.

She woke extremely early, groaning at the pounding in her head and the dry, cotton feeling in her mouth. Bleary eyed, she slipped on her traveling dress for the ride back to Winterfell and braided her hair before heading down to break her fast. The dining hall was mostly deserted; Maliya guessed that most everyone was sleeping off the effects of last night. Everyone else seemed to have had a good time, at least.

Maliya had just sat down and was nibbling on a biscuit when Jon walked in, his face growing serious when he saw her, and headed in her direction. "Hey," he greeted quietly, searching her face. "How are you doing?"

Maliya frowned. He seemed even more solemn then usual, and she was pretty sure she detected worry in his eyes. "A little tired maybe, but I've had worse. One time my cousins, sister and I snuck into the wine cellars, stole a few bottles of wine and threw a party down by the beach. I can still only remember bits of pieces of that night – we got in so much trouble for that," she grinned, shaking her head as she became lost in the memory.

Jon snorted. "I can't even imagine what Lord Stark would do." He looked slightly scared at the thought. "But that wasn't what I meant. I was talking about last night. With Robb," he prodded at her blank look.

"Oh," she muttered, feeling slightly awkward. Should she even be talking about this with his brother? "Everything's fine, Jon, don't - " she began, trying to brush it off.

"No, it's not fine!" Jon interrupted heatedly, leaning forward, grey eyes blazing. "He should never have grabbed you like that, it's unacceptable."

"Jon – "

He stopped her from interrupting. "No, listen, I've never seen him act that way. He was drunk and not thinking clearly, but that is no excuse. Just…. Don't give up on him, Maliya," he pleaded, gray eyes now wide and imploring, searching between both of her own. "I know I've told you he's a good man, and I'm sorry that it hasn't proven true yet. Just give him time, I know he'll get there."

On the one hand, Maliya was impressed that Jon would seek her out to try and not defend his brother, exactly, but still speak on his behalf. But on the other hand, the idea that Jon wanted to protect her from him was endearing and laughable. He had no idea, that at this very moment, Maliya had two daggers hidden on her person, one in the dagger sheath around her right thigh and the other slipped into her riding boots.

She didn't need protection from Robb. Truth be told, he needed protection from her.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Jon, I really do. But I am a Princess of Dorne, raised by Doran and Oberyn Martell," she told him proudly, adding in her head, _and the daughter of Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen._ "I have already spoken to your brother last night. I have never been treated like that before and I made it clear that it won't happen again. I may be a woman, but I promise you I can take care of myself."

He nodded unconvincingly as Lady Stark entered the dining hall and that had been the end of that conversation. Things moved very quickly after that. The rest of the Starks entered and ate one by one and the Umber's servants worked on loading their trunks into the carriage. Robb and Maliya avoided one another as if the other had a deadly illness. He was actually very quiet this morning and she heard his mother asking him what was wrong.

Maliya hoped he was nursing a killer hangover.

The Umbers sent them off with a hearty farewell, though it was apparent that they were all feeling the effects of the wine they had drunk last night. The young guard shyly helped them into the carriage and Maliya settled into one side with a sigh, preparing herself for a long journey. She rested her head along the back of the carriage, and it wasn't too long before she began to doze off, lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking.

She was jolted awake, jumping, her eyes wide with surprise and confusion when she heard Sansa's sudden scream and the jumbled sounds of people shouting. Maliya looked around, her sharp eyes taking in several things at once. The frightened look on Bran and Rickon's face as Lady Stark clutched them to her, yelling at Arya to move away from the window where she was peering outside.

Maliya leapt into action, pulling Arya away from the window and shoving her towards Sansa and her mother. Heart in her throat, Maliya looked outside, and for a moment, her brain couldn't comprehend what she was seeing. The young guard who had been driving the carriage was lying across the seat, his eyes open and an arrow lodged in his throat. With the reins slack, the horses had slowed to a stop, whinnying nervously.

The loud, crashing sound of steel against steel caught her attention, and looking out even further, she saw a small band of dirty, unkempt men and women racing towards their group. The few of them on horseback were loosing arrows, but the rest were wielding swords, yelling war cries as they ran. Ser Rodrik and Jory Cassel were shouting instructions, rallying with Lord Stark and circling around to form the front line in front of Robb, Jon and Theon, who were each fumbling with their swords.

"It's wildlings, Mother!" Maliya heard Arya yell. She had torn free from her sister's grasp and had her nose pressed against another window.

"Arya, move away from the window!" Lady Stark snapped, her eyes narrowed. Arya ignored her.

Maliya glanced over her shoulder quickly. "Who?"

"Wildlings," Arya repeated impatiently. "The people who live north of the wall. I've never seen one before. How did so many of them get over here?" She asked in an animated voice.

Maliya tuned out the sounds of Arya and Lady Stark bickering. She had just counted and realized that their group was largely outnumbered. More steel rang as the others engaged in battle. Two of these wildlings engaged the more seasoned warriors, and Maliya was surprised and taken aback by their ferocity and skill. They were loud and uncoordinated, sure, but individually, they each had some ability and experience with a blade.

"He's dead," she heard Sansa mutter in a voice hinging on hysteria. "Seven hells. He's dead, he's dead, he's dead."

Everything was happening too quickly. Maliya didn't know who to focus on, the children terrified in the carriage or the fighting that was going on outside. Lady Stark was doing her best to calm them, and her attention was drawn once again by the yelling. Theon charged into the fray eagerly, brandishing his sword like an idiot, Jon struggled to fight from atop his horse, but one of the wildings slashed the legs of his horse and it's scream of pain was added to the mix as he went down. Robb was engaged with a wildling on one side of his horse, and was completely blindsided as he was pulled off on the other side.

Their group was too unprepared and too outnumbered. They were losing and they needed help.

"Where are you going?" Sansa asked shrilly, her face pale and her fingers white where they clutched Maliya's arm.

"Stay in the carriage," she ordered. Sansa was shocked into silence by the abrupt change in Maliya's voice and expression. Her face was determined, her eyes blazing with no trace of fear. "You do not put one foot outside, do you understand me?"

"Don't be ridiculous, My Lady," Lady Stark snapped in a brusque voice as she tried to comfort a wide eyed Rickon with one arm and reaching over Bran to pull Arya away from the window with the other. "It's not safe, you're going to get yourself killed – "

Maliya ignored her, gently prying Sansa's fingers off her arm and descending the stairs. She slowly opened the door, peering carefully around to make sure the coast was clear. She made sure to close it tightly behind her before creeping towards the front of the carriage. The sound of the fighting seemed infinitely louder out here, but she could still barely hear it over the pounding of her heart.

When she reached the body of the dead guard, she couldn't help but grimace. The arrow was still partially lodged in his throat, but it was a mangled mess, torn flesh and blood everywhere. "I'm sorry," she whispered in a sad voice as his empty eyes stared up at her. Gritting her teeth, she reached over his still body and pulled the sword free from its sheath.

It was heavier than the one her uncle had made for her, and she knew that the added weight would hinder her speed. She crept unnoticed into the battle from behind, scanning quickly to see who needed help the most.

Robb had lost his grip on his sword when the wildling had pulled him off his horse. He was on his back, face contorted as he held the wildling's wrist in an attempt to keep the sword away from his body. The wildling kicked Robb in the stomach, making him grunt in pain and loosen his grip. With a savage, victorious grin, the wildling yanked his sword away and began to bring it over his head.

Maliya broke into a run, making herself visible for the first time. One of the wildling archers spotted her. She saw the archer draw back her bow arm and dove into a roll coming up into a crouch next to Robb, her sword raised just in time to block the other wildling's downward slash. Maliya gritted her teeth as the force of the hit jarred through her arms.

There was half a second of shocked silence. "Princess? What in the seven hells do you think you're doing?" Robb sputtered, staring up at her in outrage as her and the wildling pushed against each other.

"Taking a leisurely stroll through the forest, obviously," Maliya grunted sarcastically, gathering her legs under her and surging upward, knocking the wildlings sword to the side, bringing her leg up and kicking him in the chest. He staggered backwards away from Robb. "Now get off your arse, Stark, and grab your sword!"

A savage grin on her face, Maliya eagerly met the wildlings renewed attack. The fiery, intoxicating feel of the adrenaline rushing through her veins, the strength in her muscles as she parried and blocked, her footwork a familiar dance…. She had missed this. For the first time in a long time her mind cleared and all that was left was her actions and her reactions.

She ducked under the wildlings attempt to cut off her head and thrust her sword deep into his chest. The noise of the sword crunching through flesh and bone was a sound that she had never heard before and one she wasn't like to forget.

An arrow whizzed by her head, missing her by inches and jolting her back to the present. She pulled the sword back out and looked around, pushing her sudden queasiness away and focusing on Jory Cassel as he rode down the archer, who turned tail and ran. She remembered her uncle telling her that archers were brave away from battle, but once they had the enemy racing towards them, their courage fled.

Glancing around quickly, she saw Jon struggling with two wildings on either side of him, splattered with blood that she sincerely hoped was not his own. She ran forward, twirling her sword and diving into the fray. She blocked a slash aimed at Jon's back and shoved, pushing the man away from him.

Jon glanced over his shoulder for a quick second, eyes widening when he saw who was back to back with him. "My Lady – " He gasped in alarm.

"Now is not the time, Jon!" Maliya ground out, eyes narrowed as she concentrated on the wildling in front of her who actually _growled_ at her before attacking her visciously. She blocked each one of his strokes, focusing on the defensive as she analyzed his fighting style. It seemed very similar to the other wildling. He was more concerned on the strength behind his hits than the precision, which was his fatal mistake – like she noticed before, they had some skill with a blade. But she had been trained by one of the greatest fighters in all of Westeros.

Although she enjoyed the frustration she saw in her opponent as she blocked each of his attacks, her arms were beginning to tire and she didn't want to exhaust herself unnecessarily. Seeing her opening, she parried his swing, pivoting on her foot slashing down, severing his calf and sending him crashing to his knees with a wild yell. She easily blocked another attack, slipped behind him and slit his throat open, dousing her hands in his warm blood.

She had just stepped back from the body when there was an ear-splitting, primitive scream from her right and she was tackled, losing her sword and hitting the ground hard, the breath knocked out of her. There was a brief flash of knotted brown hair and a furious snarl before a silver glimpse of a crudely made dagger came speeding down towards her face. Thankfully her reflexes took over and she was able to catch the wildling's wrist, staring up into the face of what she thought was supposed to be a female. They grappled for a few seconds, the wildling trying to push her dagger down into Maliya's chest as she struggled to keep it at bay.

With a deranged grin, the wildling placed her other hand on the handle, and the added strength forced the dagger down a few inches until the tip of the blade was pressed against her chest. Maliya didn't even feel the slight prick as it broke her skin.

Gritting her teeth, Maliya took her right hand away, only to pull it back and launch a punch that snapped the wildling's head to the side. While she was distracted, Maliya twisted the wildlings wrist, breaking it with a snap, and in the same motion, lifted her hips and twisted her body around, flipping them over so that Maliya was now on top. As she was rolling, Maliya reached her right hand down into her boot to pull out her dagger, lifted it high and plunged it into the wildlings heart.

Breathing heavily, Maliya stared down emotionlessly at the dying wildling, twisting the dagger slightly as she watched the light fade from her eyes. Only when she was sure she was dead did she slowly pull the dagger out and stand back up.

Before she looked up, she could tell from the nearly oppressive silence that the battle was finished. And then when she did look up, she wished she hadn't. They were all staring at her. The Cassel's from atop their horses, Theon leaning heavily on one uninjured leg, his mouth open wide, Jon looking impressed and Robb looking shocked and conflicted.

"What in the seven hells was going through your mind, girl?" Lord Stark thundered, startling her as he slid off his horse and started towards her. She had never seen him angry before, but his grey eyes were flashing and his mouth was drawn down into a disappointed frown.

"My Lord – " Maliya tried to interrupt with wide eyes.

"Your family has entrusted your care to me and you dare to jeopardize that by grabbing a sword and diving into a battle where you could have easily gotten yourself killed – "

As he was speaking a twig snapped from behind him, his horse whinnying nervously at the sound. "Father, look out!" Robb cried as Ser Rodrik began to raise his sword once more, turning towards the noise. Maliya's eyes flitted behind Lord Stark and she shifted her grip on her dagger, pulling her arm back, stepping forward with her left leg and whipping her arm down, letting the dagger fly.

It crossed her mind in the split second before she let go, that a few inches to the left and she could end the life of the person who had helped kill members of her family and had forcibly taken their throne. There were just too many witnesses and they would kill her in retribution.

The dagger hit it's target, lodging deep into the wilding's throat. His eyes widened in surprise, dropping the arrow that he had drawn back in order to grapple at his throat. There was a loud, gurgling noise before he fell to his knees and toppled over.

Lord Stark had turned back to look at her, and she could tell from his eyes that he had thought the dagger was meant for him. "With all due respect, Lord Stark," Maliya began in a slightly cold voice, her frustration at society's limitations for her as a woman bubbling up once more and causing her to act irrationally. "I have been training for a situation just as this since I was old enough to walk. I know that up here, you look at me and you see a fragile female whose only purpose in life is to marry well and bear children for my husband. But in Dorne, I was _more_. I was a daughter, a sister, a Princess, and one of the best fighters that my uncle had ever trained. My father taught me to help whenever I could, and that was all I was doing."

There was a long moment of silence that was broken when the carriage door opened and the rest of the Starks hesitantly walked out, all of them white in the face. "Ned!" Lady Stark called, relief evident in her voice as she began stumbling towards him, tightly grasping Bran and Rickon's hands.

Lord Stark's attention was diverted to his wife and Maliya looked away. She moved to wipe a stray strand of hair away from her face and froze, staring down at the red blood coating her hand. The adrenaline was fading, her heartrate slowing down and the reality of what she had just done began to sink in.

She had just _killed_ three people. They had been trying to kill her, of course, but because of her, they would never breathe again. Never laugh, never smile, never hold someone that they loved. She had completely erased their existence from this world.

Feeling overwhelmed, nauseous and slightly unhinged, Maliya turned and began walking blindly in the opposite direction, completely unaware of Ser Rodrick moving to bandage Theon's leg, of Jory moving to comfort a hysterical Sansa, of Jon hugging a shocked Arya or of Lord and Lady Stark embracing gratefully.

She certainly didn't notice a pair of ice blue eyes following her as she slipped away into the forest.

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

Robb followed Maliya without having a conscious thought to do so. He felt as if his mind wasn't working properly. He couldn't seemed to process the fact that his wife of less than a fortnight, a young woman who he thought was kind for the most part, maybe slightly conceited, sure, and strong willed when provoked, but still just a woman. The fact that she had saved not only his life but his father's as well, was something that he found he had a hard time coming to terms with.

Her obvious skill and experience with a blade – for the fluid way that she had moved when she was fighting those wildlings, it was apparent that she had practiced for many years – was something that he found he could not deny.

He followed Maliya until she stumbled upon a stream, where she fell heavily to her knees and began to frantically scrub her hands in the water, muttering darkly under her breath. "Get off, get off, get off – "

"Princess?" He called in a soft voice, not wanting to startle her. She didn't seem to hear him. "Maliya?" It wasn't until he had knelt next to her and gently grabbed her hands that she snapped out of her trance, sharply pulling away from him. He found that he hated it when she flinched away from him, but after what he did last night he couldn't blame her. He only remembered parts of it, but what he did remember made him sick to his stomach. Robb kept himself calm, holding out his hand for hers.

She watched him warily for a long moment and for a second he thought she would fight it. Eventually though, too exhausted to argue or fight, she slowly placed her hands in his and allowed him to help her clean them. He felt her hands tremble within his and she clenched them into a tight fist once before opening them again. His blue eyes flickered up to hers, and she looked away, jaw working. "I've been training to fight since I was four, but I've never…. Never killed someone before."

He could tell it was a hard thing for her to say and accept, and he knew exactly how she was feeling. "Neither have I," he admitted in a low voice, still seeing the fear in the enemy's eyes when he realized he was going to die. "But it needed to be done, Maliya. If we didn't protect ourselves we were going to die." She nodded slowly, though her brow was furrowed and she still looked unconvinced. "You saved my life today, and though they may not admit it, probably the lives of everyone else as well. So even though it was stupid of you to put your life at risk… thank you."

"You're welcome," she whispered, pulling her hands away from his own.

The guilt was eating away at him. "Look, Princess, about last night – my behavior was abhorrent and inexcusable. I should never have laid my hands on you like that or spoken to you in that way. My parents didn't raise me to behave that way, and they would have been ashamed to hear what I did. I am deeply sorry for angering and offending you and I can promise you that I will do everything within my power to make sure that never happens again."

His words were spoken honestly and sincerely and he watched the surprise flick across her face. Her brown eyes searched him slowly and deliberately and he felt that for the first time since they had known each other that their relationship had shifted somehow. "I appreciate that, Lord Stark, I really do. I know what it takes for a man to admit to his mistakes and I can respect that. I shouldn't have let my anger take me over and I'm sorry I hit you." The fierce look was back in her eye. "But I won't tolerate being spoken to like that, especially not by a man who is supposed to be my husband."

A rueful smile crossed Robb's face. "Your uncle said as much the night of our wedding. He said that you were no ordinary woman and that you had an unrivaled temper that I did not want to find myself on the other side of."

Robb's eyes widened slightly in surprise as Maliya let out a clear, tinkling laugh, the first genine emotion he'd seen from her since they'd known each other. He found the sound quite beautiful. "That sounds like something my uncle would say," she chuckled as her laughter died down. "He's not wrong, you know."

"No," he agreed, shaking his head. "But apparently, I was. I didn't know you could fight like that."

Her smile faded quickly. "There's a lot that you don't know about me, because you never bothered to try," she snapped. She sighed the next second, wiping a weary hand across her eyes. "Sorry, let me try that again," she muttered. She paused a moment to gather her thoughts "When I was training, nothing else mattered. All my feelings and trivial worries faded into the background and all that was left was me and my opponent. When I fight, I'm not a Princess of Dorne or the daughter of Doran Martell…. I'm just _me_." She chuckled humorlessly. "Does that make sense?"

"Yes," he nodded, watching her as she continued.

"Since being here, I've felt like I've been locked away. I didn't mention that I knew how to fight because women in the north aren't allowed to." She looked away sadly. "It has been really difficult only being a part of myself."

"What have we been doing?" He asked, mystified, shaking his head. "I feel like our anger and general feeling of unfairness has made us unhappy with our current situation, and we've been taking that out on each other. I don't want to continue this way, Maliya, I don't want to be miserable for the rest of my life. If you're willing to work with me, I would like to start over. To make an attempt to get to know one another better, to be open and honest in our communications and to give all of our efforts into making this marriage work."

A small smile graced her lips, bringing a srong feeling of relief rushing through him. "I think I would like that," she murmured, holding out her hand. "Hi, my name is Maliya."

"Hello Maliya," Robb smiled back, eyes twinkling as he took her hand and gently pressed a kiss to the back of it. "My name is Robb. It's a pleasure to meet you."

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

Maliya's thoughts were jumbled and conflicted for the rest of the day. She kept seeing the three wildlings that she killed in her mind's eye, causing her mood to be sad and solemn. Yet on the other had, her open and honest conversation with Robb had surprisingly lifted her spirits, giving her a feeling of hope and determination. Things had changed between them, and she was pretty sure it was for the better.

But this feeling of hope and relief regarding her marriage with Robb was perplexing. The only reason she was in this situation in the first place was because she was looking to get revenge on her family. The Starks had helped the Baratheons and the Lannisters during Robert's Rebellion – they were the reason she was an orphan! So _why_ did she care if her marriage with Robb was going badly?

The question ate at her, worrying her and making her feel like she was inadequate. Like she had already failed her mission.

Their ride home was a subdued blur. It took them a while to recover after the attack, and though Lord Stark didn't resume his scolding from earlier, his dark glance told her that it wasn't finished in the slightest. Arya kept gazing at her with an awe-like expression, having watched her through the glass, but Sansa couldn't even meet her eye. Maliya tried to ignore them all, but it was difficult to do when you were stuck in the same carriage as them for multiple hours.

She didn't think her day could possibly get any worse, but once again, fate seemed determined to prove her wrong. As soon as they rode inside the walls of Winterfell, Maester Luwin walked out of the castle doors, a letter in his hand and a grave expression on his face.

"From King's Landing, My Lord," Maester Luwin told Lord Stark, handing it to him before he even dismounted from his horse.

Lord Stark opened the letter and read it quickly. Maliya watched his face darken at the news and when he finished reading, he shared a swift look with Lady Stark. Maliya couldn't understand what the look meant, but Lady Stark must have because her expression matched his.

"What is it, father?" Robb asked from his horse, a look of concern on his face.

What Lord Stark said next made Maliya's heart pound in her chest, each beat spreading hatred throughout her body, her fists clenched at her side. "The King and his family are on their way to Winterfell."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Oh man, shit's about to go down! We're about to dive down the rabbit hole that is Season 1, so buckle your seatbelts. If there's anything you wanted to see from Season 1 that never ended up happening, let me know! What do you think of how Maliya and Robb's relationship is progressing? Does it seem realistic enough?**

 **Thank you for supporting me and my story! Don't forget to leave a review!**

Guest 1 – Thanks for the review and the compliments! I'm so glad you think everyone's in character : )

Lisa – Thank you! Maliya is one of the most interesting and conflicted characters I've ever written and I'm glad you're appreciating her.

Guest 2 = Thanks for your review! Haha as crazy as it sounds, I usually get over a thousand views for each chapter but less than 20 reviews! So I'm grateful to all of you that take the time to review!

Guest 3 – Thanks, here's the next update!

Guest 4 – Thank youuuu, I hope you like this next chapter : )


	6. Surprises

**Author's Note: Hey everybody! First I'd like to thank everybody who reviewed, favorited or followed my story! Especially Maddie Rose and Dannylionthe1st for being great betas!**

 **The fabulous Maddie Rose has made an awesome trailer for A Dragon in Disguise! I was so excited when I saw it and I hope you guys love it as much as I do! She has one completed Game of Thrones story, two in progress and several more in other fandoms. You should definitely check her out.**

 **The trailer is on my profile!**

 **Let me know what you think!**

* * *

Chapter 6: Surprises

Maliya sat sullenly in Lord Stark's office, watching him pace back and forth in front of her. It had been several days since they returned from the Umber wedding, and Maliya had been dreading this moment ever since. A flash of resentment rushed through her at the situation she was in. Lord Stark was _not_ her father, so why did it feel like she was sitting here waiting for a lecture or a punishment?

When Lord Stark finally stopped pacing, he turned to face her, leaning back against his desk with a solemn face. "How are you doing?"

Maliya, who had been inwardly bracing herself for a long-winded reprimand, faltered with a stunned blink. "What?" She asked uncertainly, unsure if you had heard him correctly.

There was an understanding look in his eye as he continued. "Robb told me that you had never killed anyone before the attack three days ago." His face was gravely serious. "I know what that can do to a person, and I'm sorry that I haven't talked with you sooner."

Maliya was flabbergasted, thrown off balance by both his apology and his obvious concern for her, and a part of her was angry with him for it. He was supposed to be the bad guy in this situation. He was the one who helped Robert fucking Baratheon overthrow her family, he was the one who had murdered Targaryen soldiers. What in the seven hells did he care about her for?

The automatic words, 'I'm fine,' were on the tip of her tongue, but something in his openly patient face must have caught her off guard because what spilled out instead was the truth. "I see them sometimes," she admitted, looking down as she played with her fingers. "When I close my eyes. I hear… I hear the sounds of them dying, I can't –" She broke off apruptly, snapping her mouth shut. She didn't know or trust Lord Stark well enough to tell him her most terrifying and disturbing secret of all.

That when the bloodlust had taken her over, she had relished their pain and their deaths.

He examined her face for a long moment. "Does it upset you, that you killed those wildlings?"

"Yes," Maliya answered immediately and honestly. "It's a terrifying thing knowing you have the ability to end someone's life," she continued slowly, but when she looked up at him again her eyes were hard. "It upsets me, but I don't regret it."

Lord Stark nodded. "When the killing numbs you, when you start not to care who or what you kill, that is when you should begin to worry about your humanity. Taking someone's life stains your soul; it's not something you can ever recover from." Maliya was astonished at his open honesty, but she was grateful that he was actually treating her like an adult whereas her father would have given her the lecture of a century. "You were very courageous that day, My Lady. There are not many people who would willingly charge headlong into battle to try and save people they've only known for a fortnight. So thank you, for saving my son and I. Thank you for helping us."

Maliya squirmed uncomfortably under his grateful look, but refused to look away, saying the words that she knew were appropriate in this situation. "Your family is my family now, Lord Stark. Of course I would do anything to protect them."

"All the same…. Women do not fight here in the North," he announced, still watching her closely.

Maliya's nails dug into the back of her hands as she struggled to contain her annoyance. "…No," she answered finally.

"You enjoy fighting."

"I do," Maliya admitted defiantly, lifting her chin slightly. "My father didn't approve much of my fighting, but my Uncle taught me anyway and I was really, really good at it. I know your women here do not fight, but it is such a part of me…. Don't ask me to stop. I don't want to disappoint you – "

"Be calm, dear girl," Lord Stark interrupted her in a reassuring voice. "I am not going to ask you to give up fighting." Maliya released a shaky breath of relief. "While I admit that my reaction to seeing you in battle may not have been the best, I would like to explain it. For me, it was a hopeless sense of déjà vu."

Maliya tilted her head to the side with a confused frown. "What do you mean?"

"You reminded me of your aunt, Princess Elia." Maliya's heart nearly stopped in her chest at the mention of her mother and she found herself waiting with bated breath to hear what he was going to say next. "I knew that King Aerys was holding her and her children hostage, but by the time that the battle was finished I was too late. Your aunt and her two, innocent children were already gone."

"Murdered," Maliya corrected with a flash of anger and a cold voice.

His mouth tightened at the word but he nodded, accepting it. "Murdered," he repeated. "When I saw you in the battle, I feared that history was about to repeat itself. I'm not asking you to give up fighting, My Lady, but I am going to ask you to be smart about it."

"Alright," Maliya murmured, looking thoughtful. "I don't expect to find myself in anymore battles, My Lord." Her mind was whirling, her stream of thoughts landing on one very obvious, very painful conclusion that sent her whole world spinning. "You're not responsible for their deaths," she whispered, her eyes widening slightly. "You're not responsible for their deaths," she repeated louder, looking up at him.

Lord Stark had sided with Robert Baratheon in the war that had destroyed her family. But her family, her own grandfather, had murdered his father and brother. He was avenging the deaths of his family, but she was _finally_ able to see that he wasn't the cause of hers.

It was Robert Baratheon who had killed her father.

It was Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch who had killed her mother, brother and fake Rhaenys.

And it was Tywin Lannister who had given the orders.

She had been so blinded by her anger and her need for revenge that she was just willing to blame anyone involved in the war. It was plain to see that Lord Stark is a kind, decent and honorable man and the deaths of her family had been vile, cruel and unnceccesary.

"My father and uncle say that Tywin Lannister ordered Clegane and Lorch to kill my aunt and her children." Maliya's words were delivered nonchalantly, but she was carefully searching him for any and all reactions.

There was the briefest flicker of something in Lord Stark's eyes, but it was gone quickly as his face darkened. "That rumor has never been officially proven," he said in a low voice. "I would keep that to yourself, Lady Maliya, especially when the king and his family come to visit. Those words can prove very dangerous." He paused, thinking carefully. "Ever since the war… your father and your uncle have not hidden their hunger for revenge or their hatred of the Lannisters. I hope you do not share their sentiments."

Maliya tilted her head to the side, opening her brown eyes wider for an innocent look. "Do you not blame the Targaryens for the murder of your father and brother?"

"No," Lord Stark answered honestly, shaking his head with a mixture of sadness and frustration in his eyes. "It was King Aerys' order – he would watch someone burn if he had even an inkling that they were going to betray him."

Maliya nodded slowly, unsure what to think about this sickening news about her grandfather. Lord Stark was watching her expectantly so she filed that information away for later perusal. ""I'm not going to lie to you, Lord Stark. Knowing that my family's murderers are still out there and have never been punished for the crimes that they have committed, makes me incredibly angry and sad. But I'm not stupid and won't do anything to endanger you or your family, I swear it. Besides, what is a girl of eight and ten going to do against one of the most powerful men in Westeros?" Maliya chuckled in her attempt to dissipate the tension from the room.

It worked. A kind smile crossed Lord Stark's face, a mischevious twinkle in his eye as he changed the subject. "So… how are things between you and my son?"

Maliya froze at the unexpected question, her eyes widening. "I – things are fine, My Lord," she said uncertaintly, attempting to smile back at him. "Better than they were," she added, thinking back to their conversation after the fight with the wildlings.

And they were. It was still awkward, to be sure, because they still didn't know much about eachother, but no longer did they actively avoid being alone in the same room as one another.

His smile grew. "I am glad. Robb's a good lad, and I think you will be good for him."

Maliya wasn't so sure. Uncomfortable with this conversation, she changed the topic once more. "My Lord, I heard about the death of Jon Arryn. I've heard that you two were close and I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." His normally cold grey eyes were soft and kind as he looked upon her and Maliya was so bewildered by all the revelations from this one conversation that she felt like the world was spinning. "Please know, Lady Maliya, that if you ever need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to come to me." She nodded, smiling at him as she stood and headed for the door. "Oh, My Lady?" She turned. "I know my daughter very well. Arya is going to ask you to learn how to fight with a sword and I am going to request that you refrain fromdoing so. It's a work in progress, but Lady Stark and I are still attempting to turn her into a Lady of Winterfell."

Maliya walked back to her chambers in a daze, her mind not sure what to focus on first: the fact that a part of her actually seemed to like and respect Lord Stark. The fact that her grandfather was a sadistic psychopath who liked to murder people when he felt like it, or the fact that she found she no longer blamed Lord Stark for the death of her family.

One thing she knew for certain, however. She no longer wanted revenge against the Starks and as a result she had no idea what she was doing here anymore. All that was left was her… marriage.

 _No_ , Maliya scolded herself, as she let herself into her and Robb's bedchambers. _I will not give up! Lord Stark still has close ties with my enemies and I can use that to my advantage! I will not admit defeat to my uncle and my father. I refuse._

 _But how?_ Another voice whispered. _You're stuck so far in the North that you might as well be on the opposite end of the world._

 _The Lannisters and the Baratheons will be here in the next couple of weeks,_ she reminded herself, the thought making her feel better already. _Things are already being set in motion with the castle hurrying to prepare for their arrival._ That was true enough. The servants could be seen scrubbing parts of the castle that probably hadn't been cleaned in a dozen years.

A quick glance around the room showed that Robb wasn't here. She drifted over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it with a sigh. She should write home to her father about what she had learned and ask why in the seven hells they hadn't told her about her grandfather. They hadn't told her much about her family, actually. Part of that could be because they were trying to protect her, but she suspected that it was because they didn't know much about her family. King's Landing was far from Dorne and while they might have been close with her mother before she married Rhaegar, Maliya suspected that once she moved away they didn't visit her all that often. They had probably only met her father a handful of times and probably never met her brother considering he was only a few months old.

She should really learn more about her own family bloodline. Maybe the Stark library would have some books that she could research.

As her mind jumped from one thought to another, her eyes fell upon a box resting on top of the dresser. She stood, slowly walking over to pick up the box and opened it. Her eyes caught the beautiful silver sun resting inside, her fingertips lightly tracing her engagement present from Robb. Even though it was a confusing gift considering she was technically no longer a Martell, and even though Robb was angry when he gave it to her, it really was a very thoughtful present.

And too beautiful to be sitting in this box, unused. Maliya carefully lifted it out of the box, reaching behind her to clasp the necklace closed. It was a longer chain than she expected, but that was probably a good thing. When she shook her hair out, the sun rested perfectly between her breasts next to her heart, hidden beneath her dress.

She shivered as the cold metal hit her skin, and smiled at the irony of a cold sun.

The door behind her opened and she looked over to see her husband enter the room, his fur winter coat on and a brown basket in his hand. "Hello, Princess," he greeted, with a small smile. Maliya smiled back, still trying to get used to the fact that his bright blue eyes were no longer emotionless or full of contempt when he looked at her. "How did it go with my father?"

"Surprisingly well," Maliya answered, turning to face him more fully. "Conversations with your father are a lot less painful than the lectures with mine." Her gaze fell to the basket and her expression turned curious. "What's that for?"

Robb shrugged, his face growing cautious and uncertain. "I wasn't sure how the meeting was going to go, so I packed a lunch for us and I was thinking of taking you to one of my favorite spots in Winterfell."

"Oh!" Maliya exclaimed, her eyes widening, not wanting to acknowledge the small flip in her stomach at the surprisingly thoughtful gesture. "Really?" She asked, not knowing what to say or how to act. Why did she suddenly feel so nervous?

"Nevermind," Robb suddenly said, shaking his head, his cheeks slightly pink. "It was a stupid idea, I don't know what I was thinking – "

"No, no!" Maliya hurried to assure him, wanting to hit herself for making him second-guess himself. "I – I think I would like that. To go on a picnic with you, I mean."

 _Seven hells, this shouldn't be so awekward._

Maliya blinked at the breathtaking smile that crossed his face. "Good!" He strode over to their wardrobe and grabbed her winter cloak, tossing it to her and accidently hitting her in the face with it.

She threw a halfhearted glare at him as she pulled it away, but her lips twitched as he chuckled at both her expression and her slightly mussed hair. He walked over as she slipped the cloak around her shoulders, stopping in front of her. She looked up at him with wide eyes as he carefully reached up and moved a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Ready?" He asked, still smiling slightly.

"Yeah, uh – yes," Maliya stammered, clearing her throat. _Pull yourself together!_

"After you," he said gracefully, gesturing to the door.

"Thank you," Maliya murmured, with another quick glance up at him. She walked outside of their bedchambers and then paused, turning to look at him. "Umm.. I don't know where we're going."

"Oh, right." Robb sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "After me, then, I guess."

Robb stepped around her and began to lead the way, and Maliya followed. She caught herself smiling at his awkwardness and frowned. What was wrong with her?

Robb led her outside of the castle and around to the right, a direction that she had never been before. As they walked, Maliya caught sight of a tall, strangely shaped tower. When she squinted up in closer examination, however, she realized that the top two thirds of the tower had broken inwards. "What happened to this building?" Maliya asked quietly, breaking the silence.

Robb glanced over at her and then up at the building in question. "Lightning struck it over a hundred years ago and it caught fire. They were able to eventually put it out, but for some reason no one's bothered to rebuild it." His voice is unconcerned as he waves her on. "Come on, our destination is right up – BRANDON STARK!" He barked, making Maliya jump in alarm, looking around with wide eyes. A flash of movement caught her eye and her jaw dropped in amazement when she followed Robb's gaze and caught Bran running _ontop_ of the outer wall of the castle. He had slowed at the sound of his brother's voice, and though he was far away, Maliya thought she saw a chagrined look on his face when he realized he'd been caught. "Get down here!" Robb called, a stern look on his face. "Now."

Maliya watched with baited breath as Bran quickly and skillfully climbed down the wall, using footholds that she couldn't quite see. Robb actually put his hands on his hips as Bran approached him, and Maliya had to hide a smile behind her hand at how much he looked like his father.

"Robb – " Bran tried to say but Robb cut him off.

"No excuses this time, Bran," Robb interrupted. "I have heard you promise mother that you would stop climbing time and time again. It's dangerous, and you could get seriously hurt if you fall!"

Bran rolled his eyes in annoyance. "But Robb, I've never fallen!"

"Never?" Maliya repeated incredulously, raising her eyebrows.

"Not once," Bran grinned at her, puffing his chest out proudly. Robb threw her an exasperated look that said, 'You're not helping,' and she shut her mouth, stemming her astonishment. Bran caught the look and turned to Robb to say in a small, innocent voice, "You're not going to tell mother, are you?"

Robb gazed down at Bran's big, pleading brown eyes and even Maliya could see him waver. He heaved a sigh and passed a tired hand over his eyes, and while he did so, Bran's lips twitched. He knew that he had won. "No," Robb admitted, opening his eyes as Bran tried to rearrange his face into a contrite expression. "Run along. But don't let me catch you on those walls again!" He shouted after Bran who had wasted no time hurrying away from them both.

"What?" Robb asked as he glanced at her and caught the amused look in her eyes.

She grinned up at him as they continued on their way. "That boy can persuade you to do anything and everything, couldn't he?" She asked in a knowing voice.

"As much as I hate to admit it, yes," Robb sighed in a defeated voice. "They all could."

"It is nothing to be ashamed of," Maliya assured him. "My little brother once persuaded me to sneak him out of lessons so we could explore the caves down by the water. My father was furious, of course, but I was the one who was punished more severely because I was older and should have known better."

Robb smiled at her. "It sounds as if your brother and Bran would get along quite well."

Maliya's own smile turned sad. "Yes. Bran is a few years younger than Trystane but he reminds me of him very much."

"This is it," Robb says suddenly as they come to a stop in front of a decently sized building made out of glass.

He holds the door open for her and when Maliya steps inside, she cannot stop the gasp that escapes her or her eyes from widening in wonder. "What is this place?" She asked breathlessly.

"One of the glass gardens here at Winterfell," Robb answered, watching her reaction closely and seeming pleased by it. "The glass was imported from Myr, the clearness of it allowing the sunlight to stream through, and the hot springs beneath Winterfell run directly underneath here, keeping it warm."

And it certainly was warm. Feeling extremely delighted, she dazedly took off her cloak as she walked forward slowly, looking around. The glass garden was larger than she would have thought, but besides the warmth of the place, the first thing that she noticed was the _color_. There was the bright green of the leaves, as well as an assortment of colors from the fruits and vegetables that were growing here. Robb followed her as she walked through, breathing in the mingled hearthy smell. Brightly colored flowers that she didn't recognize lined the outer walls of the gardens, but in the center of the greenhouse was a small tree that twisted in a unique way, gorgeous red flowers dangling from it's leaves and a small area of green grass surrounding it.

"My parents planted this tree around the time that I was born," Robb told her, breaking the silence once more. "It's from the south, supposedly, so they planted it in here so it could grow in a warm environment. Once the plants are weeded and watered in the mornings, it becomes a very quiet place and I often come here if I need to think or be alone."

"And you're showing it to me?" Maliya asked, turning to fully face him, feeling touched beyond words.

Robb nodded, looking uncertain once more. "You're my wife," he said simply. "Things between us have been better since our talk a few days ago, but it still felt awkward. I was trying to think of a way to erase that between us, and I figured letting you get to see a side of me that not many people know about may be a start in the right direction."

"Thank you, Robb," Maliya told him sincerely, still feeling quite shocked at his thoughtfulness. "I don't quite know what to say." He smiled at her then, a twinkle in his blue eyes. "What?" She asked.

"That's the first time you've really said my name," he told her in a low voice. "I think I like the way it sounds coming out of your mouth." Maliya flushed, looking away. "Are you hungry?" He asked, noticing her discomfort and changing the subject.

"Yes," Maliya answered, following Robb as he placed the basket on the grass and pulled out a small blanket. He spread it on the ground and sat down on it, looking up at her and patting the space next to him with a grin. She sat next to him, placing her cloak beside her, and watched as he pulled out two plates as well as honeyed chicken, fresh baked bread, an assortment of nuts and berries and lemon cakes for desert. She looked around at her surroundings, at her husband and at the food. "This is all very… romantic," she told him in a soft voice.

Robb snorted and shook his head, his eyes still focused on serving the food. "You're a beautiful princess from Dorne, I'm sure this is nothing compared to what actual princes have done to try and woo you."

It was Maliya's turn to give an unladylike snort this time as she tried not to focus on the fact that he had just called her beautiful. "I'm afraid there's not much romance in Dorne. Women are free to do as they please and the so-called princes do no more than leer at my body and actively try to get into my skirts. If there was ever any attempt at romance, it was with that endgoal in mind."

"Yes, I know that plan well," Robb teased, raising his eyebrows up and down suggestively. Maliya let out a surprised laugh, playfully pushing his arm. Robb watched her laugh with a smile. He continued when she quieted, his expression serious. "You deserve romance, Maliya, every woman does. I know we're married, and I know…certain things are expected of us. But if you want, if it's easier, we can just focus on becoming friends."

Maliya looked up at his open, earnest face as he waited for her answer, then examined how she was feeling about what was happening. "Friends. I think I would like that," she told him, hesitating for a moment before continuing slowly. "But… I also wouldn't mind more of these little romantic moments," she grinned, plucking a berry off her plate and popping it into her mouth. "Especially if they involve food."

"Alright," Robb nodded, picking up his own plate. "We'll take it slow then, get to know one another and see what happens."

"What's your favorite color?" Maliya asked, thinking of the first question that came to mind. She smiled, watching him as he took her silly question seriously.

"I would have to say blue," he answered after a moment. "But not just any blue, the blue of the sky after a long winter storm – don't make that face!" He laughed as he caught her wrinkled nose.

"I'm sorry!" She chuckled, shaking her head. "It's just that when I hear winter storm I think of white, cold, wet _things_ falling out of the sky… it's unnatural."

His blue eyes were full of humor. "Actually, it's a perfectly natural occurance up here in the North. I can't wait until you see the first snowfall." His voice held a barely contained excitement and his eyes had a faraway look at them. "When it snows, there's a certain stillness to the air and time seems to stand still. The best part though, is when you wake up the next morning and there's a fresh blanket of snow on the ground. The five of us always race outside before we even break our fast."

"To do what?" Maliya asked, mystified.

"Anything," Robb shrugged. "Arya and Bran will usually start a snowball fight but Sansa and Rickon like to build these big forts things out of snow."

"Forts?" Maliya repeated, only growing more confused as she tried to picture it.

"Well, yeah. They usually pile the snow as high as they can, pack it down and then dig a hole that leads inside. Sometimes mother will let them eat inside. When Sansa was younger she used to try and make the little ones play house. Arya hated it. It usually turned into a big fight and one or both of the girls would end up crying."

And even as he said it, he was smiling as the memories came back to him. "You really love them," she observed, tilting her head to the side.

"I'd do anything for them," he responded immediately, no hesitation in his voice. He grinned as she absently picked up a lemoncake and began nibbling on it. "What about you? What's your favorite color?"

"Red," Maliya answered after a moment's thought. She cast her mind around for a beautiful description like the one he gave her, but the only thing that came to mind was, 'like the color of blood.' Casting that morbid thought aside, she pointed up into the trees. "Like the flowers on your tree."

Shifting onto his knees, Robb stretched up and plucked a flower from the branches. He twirled it for a second, bringing to his nose to sniff before hesitantly shifting closer to her. Maliya held perfectly still, unconsciously holding her breath as he reached over and brushed her hair behind her ear so he could place the flower there.

He was too close. She could smell his slightly woodsy, somehow winter scent and she could see the somewhat darker flecks of blue in his already bright blue eyes. His breath ghosted across her face and she knew that if she leaned in just a couple of inches, she would be close enough to kiss him.

"When's your birthday?" She blurted out instead, looking away from him and distracting herself by picking up the leg of chicken.

Robb didn't seem disappointed at her change of subject, he just shifted back to his seat and resumed eating. "The thirteenth day in September. Just a couple more months and I'll be seven and ten. What about you?"

"The 25th of December," she answered, her heart rate finally slowing down.

"Tell me more about your family."

And she did, gladly. "Arianne's the oldest. She's beautiful, adventurous, fierce tempered and not afraid to go after what she wants. She also the person who used to calm me after a nightmare and the person I turn to when I need help. Quentyn is two years my elder, but I don't remember much about him. He was sent to the Yronwoods to be fostered when I was younger. Trystane is the youngest, he's only one and ten. He's mischevious and playful, but also shy around other people and he has a strong sense of duty for someone his age. My Uncle Oberyn is – "

"One of the most intimidating men I've ever met," Robb interrupted with a serious expression and a pretend shudder for effect.

Maliya grinned, rolling her eyes. "Yes, that's true, but he's also one of the best fighters in all of Westeros, has a laid back attitude with just about everything and is fiercely loyal to his family. The Sand Snakes are his bastard daughters. He has eight of them – "

"Eight _daughters_?" Robb repeated, eyes wide with disbelief an alarm.

"Believe me, he frequently complains about being surrounded by women," Maliya smiled fondly. "But his three oldest, Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene, they're the ones I'm closest to. They're crude and crass, experienced, not afraid to speak their minds and not someone you want to face on a battlefield."

"What about your mother?" Robb asked, setting his plate off to the side and leaning back on his hands. "I've never heard you mention her."

Maliya knew he meant Mellario, but it was Elia who popped into her mind. The sad smile on her face was genuine as she answered him. "My mother was… I don't really remember her much," she answered truthfully. "My father says that she never recovered from Quentyn being sent away. She never grew used to Dorne's customs and ended up moving back to her home town in Norvos."

"I'm sorry," Robb told her quietly. "That must have been very difficult for you and your siblings."

"Especially Trystane," she nodded. "He doesn't remember her at all." With a sigh, she put her plate to the side as well and flopped onto her back on the blanket, staring up into the tree. "It's funny, you know. My mother and father married for love and look how their marriage turned out – with both of them in completely different countries." She snorted derisively.

"How did your father take it?" He asked her, mimicking her position and lacing his fingers behind his head. "When she… left." He awkwardly finished, obviously unsure how to phrase that politely.

"My father isn't one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, per say, but I can tell that it still upsets him."

"I can imagine that it does," Robb agreed quietly. "What else is he like? Your father, I mean."

"He's…." she trailed off, struggling to find adequate words to describe the man who meant the world to her. "Kind, patient, fair, wise… he always knows the right thing to do or say, even if it does take him forever and a day to come to a decision."

"He sounds like a great man," Robb told her, his head twisting to the right so he could look at her. "I hope I get the chance to meet him one day. To meet all your family."

A wide smile crossed her face. "I hope so too." She changed the subject to lighter topics, regaling him of tales of her childhood. They talked and laughed for hours until the sun began to set and the glass garden began to darken. Maliya marveled at how easy the conversation flowed between the two of them and how much things had changed in one day. It lifted her spirits more than she thought it would.

* * *

"And which one of you was a marksmen at ten?" Lord Stark called down from the second floor balcony where he was watching the proceedings with Lady Stark next to him. "Keep practicing, Bran," he encouraged.

Maliya grinned as Robb and Jon were effectively put into their place, the laughter wiped from their faces. Bran was practicing his archery and had just missed the target for the second time. Rickon was sitting on a post next to the boys, but Maliya was watching from her spot on the fence at the back of the ring. Jon and Robb converged on Bran to offer him advice as he picked his next arrow so they didn't see Arya sneak out of the building and quietly grab her own bow and arrow.

She raised a finger to her lips as Maliya looked over to her from where she took her stance behind the fence next to her. Maliya grinned as Arya drew back the bow and let if fly just before Bran's did. The arrow hit the center of it's target, of course, stunning the boys as they looked around in surprise, laughing as Arya took a small, teasing curtsy.

"Arya!" Bran yelled, dropping his bow and running after her. Maliya hopped down from the fence as she watched them chase each other and went to go help the others gather the stray arrows.

"How did Arya learn to shoot like that?" She heard Jon ask as she approached.

"I think _somebody_ has been giving her private lessons," Robb told him, glancing over at Maliya with a significant look.

Maliya looked shocked. "How did you know?"

Robb rolled his eyes. "You two are not as sneaky as you think you are."

"I might have given her one or two pointers," Maliya grudgingly admitted. Both Jon and Robb became distracted by something over her shoulder and she turned to see Theon approaching with a solemn expression on his face for once.

"What is it?" Robb asked, knowing something was wrong.

"Saddle up. There's been a deserter from the Night's Watch and your father wants you there. Oi! Bran!" Bran breathlessly abandoned his chased and ran up to them, panting. "Get your horse ready. He wants you there as well."

Bran's face sobered instantly, his eyes widening in what Maliya thought might be fear. Picking up on the sudden tension, Maliya glanced between all of them, her brow furrowed in confusion. "A deserter? What does that have to do with you?"

"When this deserter fled from the Night's Watch, he became an oathbreaker," Jon started to explain.

"Alright…" Maliya said slowly, still not understanding what that had to do with the rest of them.

"As Warden of the North, it's my father's job to take care of the deserter," Robb continued, trying to explain it in a delicate way.

At Maliya's continuously clueless look, Theon rolled his eyes. "It's Lord Stark's duty to kill any oathbreakers from the Night's Watch," he said bluntly, ignoring Robb's sharp glance. "He has us come along to teach us a lesson of some sort."

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword," Robb finished in a grim voice. Maliya nodded. That she understood – there was Lord Stark's unfailing sense of justice and honor that she has heard so much about. She bit her tongue however, when it came to Bran. She believed ten years old was a little too young to see his first killing. She wouldn't have wanted Trystane to witness something like this, not for a year or two at least. Let him enjoy his childhood for as long as he could.

"I want to come too!" Rickon shouted, pushing his way into their group with a determined, angry look on his face. "Bran's only a little bit older than I am."

"It's not your time yet, Rick," Robb tried to explain to him in a gentle voice. He put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You need to stay here with – "

"I don't WANT to stay here with the stupid girls!" Rickon exploded, shoving Robb's hand away. He had obviously heard this argument before and glared up at them all defiantly, contrasting sharply with the tears they could see filling his eyes. "It isn't fair!" He yelled, before shoving Bran out of the way and running off.

Robb sighed and made to go after him, but Theon caught him with a hand to the chest. "There's no time, Stark. Your father's expecting us."

"You go on," Maliya urged them, though she was looking up at Robb. "I'll find him."

"Thank you," he murmured softly, the back of his hand brushing hers as his blue eyes shone with gratitude.

Maliya gave him and a small smile and a wave as they walked off to the stables to saddle their horses before she turned and went to look for Rickon. She searched for him everywhere. In his chambers, in the Great Hall, the library, everywhere! Huffing in annoyance and wishing that she knew his secret haunts, Maliya made her way back outside and was just about to give up when she froze, certain that she heard a noise coming out of the crypts of all places.

She hesitated outside the door. After her last venture down there and the strange feeling that she gets whenever she passes by it, she had just avoided the place all together. Now though, she was almost positive that she heard the echo of a sniffle coming up through the partially open door. "Hello?" She called down the stairs, creeping closer. "Rickon?"

There was no answer, but there was the definite sound of another sniffle. Muttering darkly under her breath, she picked up her skirts and began her descent down the stairs. Luckily, Rickon appeared to only be on the first floor, because as she paused before the landing that led farther down, she felt that inexplicable pull that wanted her to continue down the staircase.

She pushed it away in annoyance and continued down the corridor, past the statues of the older Lords of Winterfell until she found Rickon between Brandon and Lyanna Stark. He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and his arms around his knees, but he looked up as she approached, the tear tracks visible on his cheeks. "Hi," she said softly, joining him on the dirt floor. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Are you alright?"

He rubbed his sleeve across his nose. "I'm going to be six soon, it's not fair! Robb and Jon help father around the castle, Sansa helps mother, Arya doesn't like to do anything," he muttered in a low voice. "And now Bran gets to help with the deserter! They say I'm too little."

Maliya thought he looked adorable when he pouted like that, but she wasn't about to say that out loud. "I hate to tell you this Rickon, but you are too little – oh don't look at me like that!" She chuckled, slinging an arm around his shoulders and bringing him close to ruffle his hair. "Believe me, you don't want to grow up too fast. If it were up to me I would stay your age forever!"

He sniffled again, looking up at her dubiously. "Why? What's so great about being little?"

"Well," Maliya began, a grin on her face as she spoke in an animated voice. "For one thing kids your age are fun and have a great imagination whereas adults are boring and only care about politics and marriage. For another, you probably never get in trouble, right?"

Rickon's lips twitched. "Mother says they should know better."

"You know how I know that?" She whispered conspiratorally. "Because _my_ father used to say the same thing to me whenever me and my younger brother got in trouble!" He giggled at the outraged expression on her face. "But you wanna know the best part about being your age?"

"What?" He asked, his tears now beginning to dry.

"You can eat all the lemoncakes and cookies you want and never get fat!" She grinned as he laughed once more, seeming to forget about the earlier incident.

"Mother is always telling father to stop eating sweets," Rickon told her, his giggles dying down. He looked up at her with his wide, bright eyes. "Thanks Maliya. I'm sorry I called you a stupid girl. And I'm glad that you're married to my brother, even if you do play bedroom games without me." Maliya let out a surprised laugh as Rickon grinned and threw his arms around her. Her heart swelled at his affection and she pressed a trembling kiss to the top of his head.

She never stood a chance against this little boy.

"Come on," she finally said, breaking the silence and pulling away. "Let's get out of here, this place is creepy. Why did you have hide out here of all places?" She complained, standing and helping him to his feet.

"I like it," he shrugged, taking her hand and not letting go. "It's quiet down here."

"Really? You don't think this place has a weird… feeling to it?" She asked nonchalantly as they passed the staircase once more and headed up.

"No, why?"

"No reason," she answered, wondering what in the seven hells was wrong with her. How come she felt this… whatever it was and other people didn't?

"What's going on here?" Maliya looked up as they left the crypts and saw Lady Stark standing there, her eyes moving from Maliya to Rickon and down to where he still held her hand.

She felt Rickon shift uncomfortably and hurried to think of an explanation that wouldn't embarrass him. "Oh, I had asked Rickon to show me the – "

"It's okay, Maliya," Rickon interrupted her, looking up with a reassuring smile before letting go of her hand and walking towards his mother. "I was angry because Robb wouldn't let me go with father. But Maliya found me and I think I'm okay with being a kid for a little longer." He gave them both a bright smile. "I'm going to go see if Arya wants to play." And with that he took off.

Lady Stark turned to Maliya with a puzzled look. "I'm… not quite sure I understood half of what he said, but I know how Rickon can be when he's angry. So thank you, for whatever you did."

"It's no big deal," Maliya answered, attempting to brush it off. "I have a younger brother, I know how they can be."

"All the same, I appreciate your help." Lady Stark was silent for a moment, just examining her with those icy blue eyes that seemed to see right through her. "Would you like to start that lesson about what it means to be the Lady of Winterfell?"

"I'd love to," Maliya told her graciously, smiling.

She followed Lady Stark around the castle as she explained the different duties of being the new Lady of Winterfell, which turned out to be just as boring as it sounds. Besides the obvious of caring for the children (Maliya nearly fainted at that part), most of her duties consisted of keeping track of the household, watching over the servants, preparing the menu for the kitchens, etc. Maliya forced herself to pay attention, knowing that her father would want her to continue to repair her relationship with her good mother, especially if she was in this marriage for the long haul.

After an extremely long, indeterminable time Arya and Rickon came flying passed them down the corridor, yelling excitedly. "Arya! Rickon! How many times have I told you – " Lady Stark started to scold them.

"They're back!" Arya shouted, voice laced with enthusiasm. "Father's back!"

Lady Stark sighed as they raced off once more but Maliya couldn't help but smile as she hurried after them. "What are they carrying?" Lady Stark murmured as they made their way outside and the group came riding through the front gates. "Oh no…."

Sansa let out a combined gasp and squeal that Maliya thought impressive as she showed up behind them. "Are those – did you find puppies?" She asked excitedly, hurrying forward as Robb carefully got down off his horse considering he was holding two, tiny, fluffy animal in each arm.

"Direwolf pups, actually," Robb corrected her, his cheeks flushed from either excitement or his ride. "One for each of the Stark children. These two here are male, but Theon has the female ones."

Sansa and Arya both rushed towards Theon as he got down off his own horse. "Where's mine?" Rickon piped up, basically bouncing up and down with unbridled anticipation. "I want that one." He pointed to the little black pup in Robb's arms and grinned when it was handed over freely.

Luckily Sansa and Arya didn't want the same pup and a major crisis was avoided. Bran chose a silvery grey pup and Jon was holding the runt of the litter, a small white pup with bloodred eyes.

"What do you think?" Robb asked as he walked over to Maliya, holding out a pup with smoky gray fur and golden yellow eyes.

"He's adorable," she cooed, scratching him behind the ears and watching him nuzzle her hand. "What are the odds that you guys would find six direwolf pups, not only the sigil of your house but also the number of children that he has? I've never believed in fate before, but this is the closest I've ever come to thinking it was real."

"Ned," Lady Stark warned in an impressively low growl of a voice, her blue eyes flashing. "What have you done?"

"Oh come on, Cat," Lord Stark smiled as he approached her, placing a hand on her back and a kiss to her cheek. "Look how happy they are! Their mother was killed, I couldn't just leave them to die. They're too young, they wouldn't survive on their own. Besides, I know that our children will feed them, take care of them and train them on their own." Lord Stark gave them all a piercing look, chorusing a round of 'yes's.'

"Please, mother!" Sansa begged coming closer with her own wolf.

"Look how cute and defenseless they are!" Arya lifted her wolf and practically shoved it in her mother's face.

"We promise to take care of them," Bran chimed in, tearing his eyes away from his own wolf to look up with big brown eyes.

"Alright, alright!" Lady Stark chuckled, her expression softening as all her children teamed up against her. "You can keep them."

"Yes!" Rickon crowed, placing his pup on the ground. "Come on, Shaggydog!" He called excitedly, grinning as the pup clumsly bounded after him.

"Shaggydog?" Lord Stark repeated with a bewildered look, watching as his other kids placed their pups on the ground and ran off laughing and yelling with exhilaration, even perfect, ladylike Sansa. Lord Stark turned to his wife. "Did he just say name a strong, proud direwolf Shaggydog?"

* * *

Things at Winterfell seemed to have developed into a sort of routine, and Maliya almost forgot about the fact that the royals were heading their way. It hovered on the edge of her mind, but Maliya found herself easily distracted with her new life. Now that her last resentment and anger towards the Starks had gone, she couldn't help but grow to like each and every one of them. Things with her and Robb were still easy and comfortable and she was actually growing to enjoy getting to know him. She was also astounded at each of the different personalities of his siblings and how easily they accepted her into their life.

Her favorite moment thus far, however, happened a few days before the royals arrived. Sansa and Arya had just gotten into another one of their legendary fights and Maliya had gone off to find Arya. She knew what it was like to be the younger sister.

Maliya cautiously knocked on Arya's bedchamber doors. "Hi Arya," Maliya greeted softly, noting the sad forlorn look on the other girls face as she absently stroked her direwolf's fur. "I heard about your fight with Sansa earlier. Can I come in?"

Arya shrugged and Maliya took that as an affirmative. It had been a fortnight since Lord Stark had brought the direwolves home and already in that short amount of time they had nearly doubled in size.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Maliya asked, crossing the room to join Arya on her bed. The other girl reluctantly moved over, lifting the fur covers and allowing Maliya to slip inside, her back resting against the headboard.

Arya was silent for a couple of long seconds but Maliya waited her out and sure enough the words spewed forth. "I – I wanted to name her Nymeria, but Sansa said it's a stupid name. But she named her wolf _lady_. If that isn't a stupid name I don't know what is."

Ah. And there was the heart of the problem. Sansa was young herself and didn't seem to realize that her words affected Arya, even if the younger girl pretended otherwise.

"I think Lady is the perfect name for Sansa's wolf," Maliya told her gently. It was an ironic name for sure, but it was definitely right for Sansa. Robb had named his Grey Wind, which Maliya thought was weird at first, but when he had explained that it was because all he saw was a gray blur when he ran it made sense. Bran hadn't named his yet either, but Jon had named his wolf Ghost, which also made sense because of his white fur. "This little wolf, though, is yours Arya. You can name her whatever you want to. I have a cousin named Nymeria you know," she continued conversationally. "My uncle named her after his favorite story of Queen Nymeria, the woman who basically founded Dorne."

"That's what I was going to name her after! The warrior Queen Nymeria. A woman and a badass," Arya said fiercely, just daring Maliya to scold her on her language.

Maliya ignored it. "Do you know the full story of Nymeria? It's my uncle's favorite, he used to tell it to us all the time when we were younger." Arya just shrugged again and Maliya continued, settling in as the remembered words came to her with ease. "Well. The Rhoyne river was one of the mightiest in Essos. The citizens that lived there called it Mother Rhoyne. Art and music flourished in the cities of the Rhoyne, and it is said their pepople had their own magic – a water magic very different from the corceries of Valyria, which were woven of blood and fire. Though united by blood and culture and the river that had given them birth, the Rhoynish cities were elsewise fiercely independent, each with its own prince… or princess, for amongst these river folk, women were regarded as the equals of men."

"Yeah, Bran, you hear that?" Arya interrupted, causing Maliya to blink in surprise and look over to the doorway to see Bran and Rickon loitering outside, both in their nightclothes. "Women were _equal_ to men." Bran stuck his tongue out at her but Rickon was looking at her with an earnest expression.

"Are you telling a story, Maliya?" He asked in a soft voice, rubbing his eyes and fighting a yawn. "Can we listen too?"

"No, she's telling the story to me," Arya snapped at once. "You should be in bed." She was probably right, but Maliya sent her a pointed look and the other girl rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Oh alright, fine. Come on in then."

Twin smiles let Bran and Rickon's faces and they ran across the room. Rickon jumped on the bed and settled himself between Maliya and Arya's legs. Bran on the other hand, had come around to Maliya's side of her bed and shooed her over closer to Arya so he could scramble in on the other side.

"Now where was I?" Maliya questioned as they finally settled down. "Oh yes. There was a series of wars against the Valyrians, and it was they who emerged as victors more oft than not. The princes of Rhoyne, fiercely proud of their independence, fought alone, whilst the Valaryian colonies aided one another. This series of conflicts reached a bloody climax a thousand years ago in the Second Spice War, when three Valyrian dragonlords joined with their kin to overwhelm, sack and destroy Sarhoy, the great Rhoynar port city upon the Summer Sea. The warriors of Sarhoy were – " she faltered here for a moment. Normally her uncle would go into detail about how they were slaughtered and children sold into slavery but she amended it for the young ones. "Defeated," she said instead. "The utter destruction of one of the richest and most beautiful cities of the Rhoyne, and the enslavement of her people, shocked the remaining Rhoynar princes."

"What about Princess Nymeria?" Arya demanded impatiently.

Maliya's lips twitched. "Patience," Maliya chided, playfully squeezing her side and making her jump and laugh. "Do you want to hear the story or not?" Arya nodded with her lips tightly shut and Maliya continued. "Only Princess Nymeria of Ny Sar spoke against them. 'This is a war we cannot hope to win,' she warned them, but they did not listen and she had no choice but to join their alliance. They won the first battle against a hundred thousand foes, a hundred war elephants and three dragonlords. Their wizards used the river against the dragons, and two archers managed to bring down two of them while the third fled, wounded. The Volantenes retreated and pled for help. Help did arrive, in the form of dragons, three hundred or more, if the tales that have come down to us can be believed – "

A sharp gasp caught their attention and they all looked up to the doorway to see Sansa standing there in her nightdress, a shocked expression on her face. "Did you say _three hundred_ dragons?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Arya spat, venom in her voice. Her direwolf looked around at the sound of her owner's voice, growling slightly.

Sansa flushed red when she realized they were all looking at her and shuffled awkwardly. "Looking for you," she mumbled. "I'm – I'm sorry for making fun of the name Nymeria. If it makes you feel any better, mother punished me."

Arya's expression brightened slightly. "That does make me feel better, actually."

"Then can I stay and listen?" Sansa asked softly, looking nervous as to what Arya might say.

"As long as you don't interrupt," Arya warned with narrowed eyes. Sansa flounced happily inside the bedchambers, climbing up on the foot of the bed and lying down on her side, her hand on her head. "Go on, Maliya. You were up to the part about the three hundred dragons."

Maliya couldn't help but smile at them as they looked at her expectantly. "Princess Nymeria had heard of the other prince's defeat and knew the same fate awaited her if she followed down that path. So she gathered every remaining ships in her city and filled them with her people, the young and old as all of the fighting men had gone off to war. Legend has it that she was in command of ten thousand ships when they set sail. The voyage was long and terrible and more than a hundred ships sank or drifted away. When they paused at the Basilisk Isles for water and provisions, they were attacked and hundreds were carried off to slavery. Nymeria ordered them to set sail once more until they landed at Sothoryos and made a temporary home there, but they did not stay for long. The flies carried diseases that they had no medicines for, and the waters were infested with fish that would bite and eat them. They stayed until they found one of their boats drifting back ashore, with every man, woman and child missing from it. It was then that Nymeria ordered them to sail once more. For three more years they traveled, stopping some places only to continue moving once more until they headed for Westeros and stopped on the coast of what is now considered Dorne."

"That's where you're from, right Maliya?" Rickon asked through a yawn, lying down on the bed with his head on Maliya's lap. She absently began playing with his curls.

Maliya nodded. "It was a very different land back then. It was dry and poor, and the petty lords who lived there often fought their own people. Many of them viewed Princess Nymeria and her people to be unwelcome visitors, all except for Mors Martell who was the Lord of the Sandship. He saw the newcomers as an opportunity… and if the singers can be believed, his lordship also lost his heart to Nymeria, the fierce and beautiful warrior queen who had led her people across the world to set them free."

"Just like you and Robb," he mumbled, fighting to keep his eyes open.

Movement caught the corner of her eye and she looked up to see Robb standing in the doorway of Arya's bedchambers, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe, a small smile on his face. Maliya's mouth ran dry as she met his blue eyes and she quickly lost her train of thought. "Oh uh-" Maliya stammered, tearing her gaze from Robb and looking down at Rickon. "Not quite, sweetling," she told him softly. "I am not anything like the warrior queen."

"Go on with the story, Maliya," Bran urged, obviously done with the romance part of the story.

"Well, Mors Martell married Princess Nymeria and his people did the same. Dorne's numbers increased tenfold. The Rhoynar brought considerable wealth with them; their artisans, metalworkers, and stonemasons brought skills far in advance of those achieved by their Westerosi counterparts, and their armorers were soon producing swords and spears and suits of scale and plate no Westerosi smith could hope to match. Even more crucially, it is said the Rhoynish water witches knew secret spells that made dry streams flow again and deserts bloom. To celebrate these unions, and make certain her people could not again retreat to the sea, Nymeria burned the Rhoynish ships. 'Our wanderings are at an end," she declared. "We have found a new home, and here we shall live and die.' Years of war followed, as the Martells and their Rhoynar partners met and subdued one petty king after another. No fewer than six conquered kings were sent to the Wall in golden fetters by Nymeria and her prince, until only the greatest of their foes remained: Yorick Yronwood. For nine years Mors Martell and his allies struggled against Yronwood and his bannermen, in battles too numerous to mention. When Mors Martell fell to Yorick Yronwood's sword, Princess Nymeria assumed sole command of his armies. Two more years of battle were required, but in the end it was Nymeria that Yorick Yronwood bent the knee to, and Nymeria who ruled thereafter from Sunspear. Though she married twice more Nymeria herself remained the unquestioned ruler of Dorne for almost twenty-seven years, her husbands serving only as counselors and consorts. She survived a dozen attempts upon her life, put down two rebellions, and threw back two invasions by the Storm King Durran the Third and one by King Greydon of the Reach. When at last she died, it was the eldest of her four daughters by Mors Martell who succeeded her, not her son by Davos Dayne, for by then the Dornish had come to adopt many of the laws and customs of the Rhoynar, though the memories of Mother Rhoyne and the ten thousand ships were fading into legend."

By the time the story was finished, she felt the weight of Bran's head resting against her shoulder and Rickon was fast asleep. "You should definitely name your wolf Nymeria," Sansa mumbled to Arya who was the only one who still looked somewhat awake, though she was lying on her back know, deep under her covers. "She sounded like an amazing woman."

"She's my hero," Arya declared, cupping her wolf's face and pressing a kiss to it. "Nymeria it is. Thanks for telling us that story, Maliya."

Maliya mumbled something but she wasn't listening. Her gaze was caught once more in Robb's hypnotic blue eyes, a warmth in them that she had never seen directed towards her before. She couldn't read the expression on his face, however, but the look he was giving her caused her stomach to flip and her heart to pound.

Sansa sat up and noticed Robb standing there. "Robb?" She yawned. "How long have you been there? Did you hear the story?"

"I heard part of it," he replied softly, making his way into the room and smiling at her. "I'll have to hear the whole story another time. But it's late now. Time for bed."

Sansa sighed and rolled her eyes but didn't argue. "Thanks for the story, Maliya. Good night."

"Night," Maliya murmured back. Robb approached the bed, gently shaking Bran's shoulder and murmuring in his ear.

He grumbled a little in protest, but woke up enough to give Maliya a hug. "Thanks Maliya. It was a good story, even if it was about a girl." He trotted out after Sansa in the direction of his own bedchambers.

Robb reached over Maliya and carefully lifted Rickon up into his arms, where the boy nestled his head further into Robb's shoulder, still asleep. Robb straightened and paused, looking down at Maliya once more, that unreadable expression back on his face. He raised his free hand and lightly ran the back of his finger down her cheek, causing her eyes to widen. "Thank you," he murmured. "You never fail to surprise me, Princess."

* * *

Maliya watched in the looking glass as Julina's talented fingers weaved through her hair. It was another simple hairstyle, though different than the last one that Julina did for her. By the time she was finished, Maliya's hair somehow had a braid going along the top of her head from one ear to the other, pulling her hair back away from her face. The braid was pinned behind her ear and the rest of her hair fell in its natural loose waves down her back.

"Are you certain this is the dress you want to wear tonight?" Julina asked doubtfully as she stepped back and looked Maliya over. "It's so different from the ones you usually wear."

"Because it's my husbands colors or because it's not as whore-ish as the others?" Maliya asked, lips twitching up into a smirk as she ran her hands over the front of her dress. Julina's eyes widened in alarm and she started to stammer out a denial. Maliya felt bad for teasing her and turned back to look in the mirror. "I know it's a bit more… modest than my usual southern style, but the king is coming and I feel I should show that the north is my new home." The dress was fancy enough for the arrival of the royals but was still a simple gray, with lace around a neckline that completely covered her breasts (which was the part Julina was talking about) and a matching lace around the long sleeves at her wrist.

"If you don't need anything else, My Lady?"

"No, thank you, Julina." The other girl curtsied and let herself her out the door, closing it behind her. Tilting her head to the side, Maliya surveyed herself once more before deciding that she much rather wear her style of dresses. Even though this one was undoubtably warmer, it felt very confining.

Grey Wind, who had been napping on their bed while Julina helped her dress, perked his head up as she put on her engagement necklace and slipped it under her dress. He bounded off the bed and ran over to her with a yip, playfully pulling at the bottom of her skirts. "Hi you," she murmured quietly, bending down to pet him on the head, scratching him behind the years. She grinned as he nuzzled her hand and couldn't resist lifting him up, giggling as he licked her face. "I know your daddy said not to pick you up because he didn't want you to be coddled, but you are just too cute! At the rate you're growing, you're going to be too big to lift soon," she cooed. "So I just don't see how this is bad. Just don't tell your daddy, alright?" She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and placed him back on his feet. "Where is he anyway?" She wondered, straightening with a frown. "Come on, Grey. Let's go find him." She grabbed her heavy fur cloak before she left and clipped it on; she didn't know if she was imagining it, but it seemed as if the weather was getting colder and colder.

Even though Grey Wind had been with them for a couple of weeks now, she still found his name quite odd. It sounded too much like her brother and 'passing wind' to her (he thought any and all bodily functions were hilarious) and she had taken to just calling him Grey. Robb either didn't mind or notice, because he hadn't said anything to her about it yet.

Grey Wind happily trotted out ahead of her when she opened the door, and off they went in search of her husband. If she thought the castle would have been prepared for the royal's arrival she was sorely mistaken. She had to dodge several frantic maids and servants as they hurried to finish their work.

Grey Wind suddenly gave an excited bark and took off, causing Maliya's eyes to widen in panic. Lady Stark reitered daily that she expected the direwolves to be on their best behavior, and if she found out Maliya had let him run through the castle, she was done for. "Grey!" She tried to yell without being too loud. "Get back here!" Cursing under her breath, she picked up her skirts and started running after him. "Grey Wind I swear on both the old gods and the new if you don't get back here – oh!"

As she turned the corner she ran into a very solid chest and would have bounced right to the floor if the person hadn't quickly reached out and hooked an arm around her waist. When she saw a familiar pair of icy blue eyes staring down at her in shock, Maliya forced herself to quickly take stock of the situation. Her hands had reached out and grabbed his biceps instinctively and her back was bowed slightly, their legs connected. Her heart was pounding and she could have sworn that those blue eyes flickered down to her parted lips.

"Oh just make out already," a sarcastic voice sneered, effectively breaking the moment.

Robb dropped his arm and Maliya swiftly stepped back a step, looking around, her cheeks feeling flush. The sarcastic voice belonged to Theon, of course, but Jon was also standing next to Robb, grinning at the pair of them. Grey Wind was sitting innocently at Robb's feet – apparently he had smelt his owner and had gone off looking for him.

"You have all the luck Robb," Jon teased, grey eyes twinkling. "When will it be my turn to rescue a pretty damsel in distress?" Rolling her eyes, Maliya reached over and punched him on the shoulder. Jon laughed, rubbing his arm. "Careful, My Lady, I'm pretty sure that's not proper princess etiquette."

Maliya refrained from punching him again, though she couldn't help smiling. It wasn't often that Jon lost the solemn look on his face. "You better watch yourself, Jon, I can't be considered a damsel in distress when I can easily kick all your asses."

"Anytime, anywhere, Princess," Robb challenged, one side of his mouth lifting up into a dashing half grin.

Maliya glanced at him again and tilted her head to the side when she realized that he looked different. "You shaved!" She exclaimed, lifting a hand without thinking and touching his smooth cheek. Her eyes widened when she realized what she was doing, but he caught her hand before she could pull it away and lowered it to his side, fingers entertwining. Her heart was pounding again, but she strove to pretend everything was normal and they did this everyday. "You guys look handsome," she complimented, looking from Robb to Jon. Her eyes slid to Theon and she shrugged. "Well, most of you."

Jon grinned as her words, and cut in quickly when Theon opened his mouth. "Alright, Theon, let's go somewhere else and let the lovebirds talk." He grabbed Theon's arm and dragged him away.

"You know, he's only calling us that because you're holding my hand," Maliya whispered, trying to tug her hand away.

He just tightened his grip, his eyes knowing as he looked down at her. "Actually, I'm pretty sure it was because you couldn't take your eyes off me," he teased, smiling widened at her scoff. "I would ask you to explain what it is about me that you think looks especially handsome today, but the king will be arriving shortly and – "

"What?" Maliya interrupted in alarm, her heart suddenly taking a nosedive down to her stomach. "He's here? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Robb pulled back, a frown crossing his face as he observed her. "Are you alright?" He asked, obviously catching the panic in her voice.

Maliya strove to smooth out her expression, taking a breath to calm her appearance. Inwardly, the emotions were just clashing through her, but she couldn't allow anyone else to pick up on them. "I'm fine," she told him, giving him a reassuring smile, and hurrying to think of an excuse for her behavior. "It's just… my father and uncle don't really like the Baratheons and the Lannisters, especially since the death of their sister. My aunt Elia." Understanding dawned on his face and Maliya was satisfied with the partial lie. "Don't tell anyone, please Robb."

"I won't," Robb assured her, his voice serious. "You're my wife now, Maliya. Anything you tell me stays between the two of us." Maliya didn't necessarily believe him, but she nodded like she did in order to end that conversation. He gave her hand a soft squeeze. "Come," he murmured softly. "We should head down to the keep with the rest of the family."

He led the way out of the castle, pausing only to put Grey Wind in their bedchambers and closing the door so he didn't cause trouble with the royal family. He whined once, before Robb left, but quieted down when he bent down and murmured something to him.

Robb didn't take her hand again as they walked towards his family and Maliya was grateful for it. She laced hers in front of her, rebuilding her 'princess persona' as she tried to battle her anger and hatred. It was imperative that she not do anything stupid. This was the Starks home, and her behavior was directly reflected on them. She had tried to fight it, but they had somehow snuck their way into her heart and she didn't want to endanger them in any way.

Sansa gave her and Robb a nervous smile as they approached the Stark line, but Maliya could see that her blue eyes were alight with excitement. For her, this moment was all her dreams coming true. Bran was standing a space away from Sansa, an empty space where Arya was supposed to be. Maliya looked around quickly but only saw Rickon waving at her from his mother's side. She looked especially tense this morning, but Lord Stark gave them a soft smile as Robb took his place next to him and Maliya next to her husband and Sansa. "You doing alright, Lady Maliya?" Lord Stark asked quietly, leaning around Robb slightly.

Maliya gave her practiced smile. "Yes, Lord Stark. Thank you for asking." Robb gave her a questioning look but she just shook her head, not wanting to get into it right now.

She could hear the sounds of hundreds of horses approaching the gate, and she felt more than saw the rest of the castle assembling respectfully behind the Stark family. Her body was seemed to grow cold as the first of the knights and guards came riding through the gate, most of them carrying the Baratheon banners. They were in full uniform, complete with swords and helmets.

"Where is Arya?" Lady Stark hissed in frustration after glancing down the line. "Sansa, where's your sister?"

Sansa just shrugged, but not even a minute later Arya came running past, a small guards helmet on her head. "Hold it!" Lord Stark commanded, grabbing her arm before she passed him. "What are you doing with that on?" He asked, lifting it off her head and handing it behind him to Ser Rodrick. "Go on." She caught Robb trying to contain his amused grin as Arya finally stood in her spot.

A man in a white cloak and horse came trotting through first, his white cloak an obvious sign that he was part of the kindsguard. He had a helmet on though, so she couldn't tell who it was. A boy with blonde hair and a cocky, self-confident grin came into view next. Maliya felt Sansa fidget slightly at the sight of him and looked over to see her eyes glued to him, a little smile on her lips. Robb must have seen the young prince grin back at Sansa, because he tensed next to her.

Her eyes fell on a tall man riding close to the prince. He was dressed all in black and was wearing a helmet that covered his face but she knew who it was. The helmet was in the shape of a dog – it was Sandor Clegane, the brother of the man who smashed her baby brother's head against the wall and raped and killed her mother. A rush of fury ran through her, her nails biting in the backs of her hands as she fought to keep her face blank. She knew that The Hound was the prince's personal bodyguard but for some reason she hadn't factored him in when she pictured the king's visit.

Her attention was diverted again as the carriage came through as well as several more knights and the king himself. When she looked upon King Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realms her first thought was, 'who the fuck is he going to be able to protect?'

The supposedly strong, powerful man who had killed her father with a single blow to the chest was _fat._ His beard and hair were gray and he needed fucking stairs in order to get down from his horse! For most of her life she pictured the man who had killed her father as this towering, intimidating figure and it always struck a little fear and uncertainty into her heart.

But this man, the one who looked about twelve months pregnant… she wasn't afraid of him. And if anything, it made her hate him all the more.

She bent her head as the king approached, following Lord Stark's lead and kneeling on the floor, hearing the sounds of everyone in Winterfell doing the same. When the King stopped in front of Lord Stark, he gestured for him to stand again, his face impassive.

"Your Grace," Lord Stark murmured as they stood once more, inclining his head.

"You've got fat," King Robert said flatly. Maliya raised a sarcastic eyebrow at his audacity to call someone else fat. Lord Stark glanced pointedly at the King's own stomach and the two broke out laughing, the sudden tension within the rest of the crowd dissipating as they hugged. "Cat!" He called jovially, pulling the surprised woman into a hug, ruffling Rickon's hair as he pulled away as she awkwardly murmured, "Your Grace."

"It's been a long time, Stark," King Robert told him gruffly. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace," Lord Stark answered. "Winterfell is yours."

The door to the carriage opened and Maliya watched as several ladies and two small children carefully stepped out followed by a blonde woman who must be the Queen. Cersei Lannister. She looked around Winterfell and Maliya felt a rush of annoyance at the slightly disdainful look on her face.

"And who do we have here?" King Robert boomed, moving down the line. "You must be Robb," he greeted, shaking his hand.

His eyes slid past Robb and landed on her. They widened dramatically, his face paling beneath his beard as he froze. "Elia," he muttered, seemingly involuntarily.

Maliya's heart felt like someone was squeezing it. "No, Your Grace," Maliya told him quietly, inclining her head in a show of respect so he couldn't see the loathing in her eyes.

"This is Princess Maliya Martell of Dorne, Your Grace," Robb stepped in, placing a hand on the small of her back in a show of support. "She's my wife."

King Robert placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head so he could look at her face properly. It took everything she had within her not to wrench away from him. "Elia was my aunt, Your Grace," Maliya told him in an effort to distract herself. "Sister to my father, Prince Doran."

His face was more composed than before, but Maliya could see his dislike for her lurking in the back of his eyes. "Right. I had heard about your marriage, Robb, congratulations. You look very much like your aunt," he said, before dismissing her completely and moving down the line to Sansa. "My you're a pretty one. And your name is?" He asked Arya, moving quicker now.

"Arya," she answered.

He nodded to her and stopped in front of Bran. "Show us your muscles!" Bran beamed and lifted his arm for the king to see. "You'll be a soldier yet."

"That's Jaime Lannister, the Queen's twin brother!" Arya whispered to Sansa.

"Will you please, shut up?" Sansa hissed back.

Maliya turned her head to where she was looking and saw a tall man take off his helmet and shake out his hair. Everything about him was golden. His helmet, his hair, his uniform. From one look at the man Maliya could tell that he was in shape and knew how to handle a sword. Jamie Lannister. The Kingslayer. Another man who had killed a member of her family.

Queen Cersei lifted her lips and sauntered forward to Lord Stark, looking as if she had something that smelled terrible stuck to her nose. Her lips twitched in what must have been an attempt at a smile as she lifted her hand out for Lord Stark. He hesitated only slightly before pressing his lips to the back of her hand. Both him and Lady Stuck murmured, "My Queen."

"Take me to your crypts," King Robert ordered, interrupting them. "I want to pay my respects."

"We've been riding for a month, my love," Queen Cersei glanced at him, the barest hint of bitterness in her tone. "Surely the dead can wait."

King Robert dismissed her with barely a look in front of everyone in Winterfell. "Ned," he orders, and Lord Stark is forced to step around Queen Cersei and lead King Robert to the crypts. The whole situation was awkward for everyone involved.

As King Robert walked away, Maliya was certain of three things.

One. She was surrounded by powerful people who had killed multiple members of her family.

Two. These people would most likely hate anything to do with the Targaryens, so it was imperative that she keep her real identity a secret now more than ever. If they found out she was really Rhaenys Targaryen, they wouldn't hesitate to kill her.

Three. She hated them all. She would gladly see them all dead, King Robert most of all.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Well, that was another long chapter! I'm sorry if anyone dislikes them, but I can't seem to help it apparently, so this is what you should expect from now on.**

 **So! In this chapter we saw Maliya's continued relationships with the Starks, and we also saw how she's sort of struggling to handle the fact that she no longer wants revenge against them. Hopefully you agree with how the story is progressing! I don't want them anything to be too sudden or quick, so if you think it is, please let me know!**

 **A couple of you told me a few things that you wanted to see in the story, and you gave me some brilliant ideas! See if you can spot yours! So if there is something that you want to see happen, I might be able to fit it in with my plotline**

 **Next chapter: Maliya receives word from home, there's a fire and some swordfighting, Maliya vs. the royals as well as a kiss, possibly?**

 **Leave a review and let me know what you think!**

 **Guest 1– Thanks for your review! I'm glad you're liking Maliya as a character so far**

 **Guest 2 – Thank you! I love the story so far too aha you'll have to let me know how you think their relationship is progressing!**

 **Guest 3 – Keep an eye out for them this chapter!**

 **Girl – Thanks for letting me know what you think about the story. I'm sorry that you don't like Maliya yet. The only thing I can say to defend her is that she lost her entire family and her home in one day. She grew up with strangers and has been listening to her uncle and father talk about getting revenge for their deaths ever since she was little. She also didn't want to get married – she knew it was a possibility due to her station, but she wasn't happy that Robb was a Stark and that he was so far north, away from the Baratheons and Lannisters. Let me know if you like Maliya any more after this chapter!**

 **Ana – Thanks for your review, I'm glad you love the story so far!**


	7. Revelations

**Author's Note: Next chapter out within less than a month – go me! I'm really excited by this chapter and I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it!**

 **Special thanks to both Dannylionthe1st and Maddie Rose!**

 **Review, review, review!**

* * *

Chapter 7: Revelations

The feast was absolute torture. She was forced to watch as the King of Westeros got drunk and openly kissed and fondled other women that were not his wife. The Queen had a slightly pinched look to her face from where she sat at the high table looking out over the Great Hall. Lady Stark, who was sitting next to her, had to struggle to keep the horror and disgust off her face.

The wine flowed freely throughout the meal, and it didn't take long before all the men and women from King's Landing and Winterfell were drunk, laughing uproarisly and talking loudly. She could tell that the party would continue well into the night and possibly the early hours of the morning.

Rickon and Bran were the first to go to bed, then Arya after she flung food in Sansa's face. Sansa, however, had been beaming the whole evening. She was giggling with her friend Jeyne and kept exchanging flirty glances with Prince Joffrey. With every one, she could feel Robb grow tenser.

In fact, the only time he seemed at ease was when his Uncle Benjen showed up, the youngest child of Rickard Stark. He was a tall, thin man dressed all in black and when Robb saw him, a wide smile split his face. When Robb introduced his uncle to her and she found out he was a First Ranger of the Night's Watch, her brain stopped working properly.

She gaped at him, her eyes wide. "You mean you volunteered to live up there? … On purpose?" Luckily he wasn't offended by her idiocy and he and Robb just laughed.

During the feast she was actively trying to avoid looking at the royal family since that only seemed to further incite her rage. Instead, she found herself watching her husband as he mingled with everybody, making his rounds. There was a smile on his face as he talked, but with a sudden jolt of surprise, she realized that he was just acting. His smile wasn't the genuine ones that she had seen him wear and she knew he wasn't really enjoying himself.

Sure enough, he came over to her an hour or so later after most of the Great Hall had cleared out. Maliya gratefully turned away from the old man who had been blathering on to her nonstop when Robb put his hand on the small of her back. "Excuse us," Robb apologized to the man before walking a few steps away.

"Thank you," Maliya murmured, rolling her eyes. "I couldn't even tell you what he was talking about, but I know that it was something dreadfully boring."

Robb gave her a tired smile. "My parents left a while ago, and I think it's an appropriate time to make an escape." He looked down at her with those piercing blue eyes. "I'm going to head to bed. Do you want to come with me?"

She was sorely tempted. Her body felt exhausted but her mind was still whirling and until it stopped, she knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep. "I will, but I'm going to take a walk and clear my head first."

"Are you alright?" Robb asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Yes," she lied with a smile. "I'll be up shortly, don't worry."

He nodded, then hesitated for a moment before bending down to place a light kiss on her cheek. She watched him walk out of the Great Hall, feeling conflicted, before turning on her heel and walking in the opposite direction.

She closed her eyes and breathed in air that wasn't tainted with the smell of sweat, body odor and ale. Rubbing her arms against the cold chill in the air, she quickly walked across the dark grounds and towards the stables. Luckily it was deserted and Maliya was able to slip inside Shadow's stall unnoticed.

"Hey boy," she greeted softly, smiling as Shadow pushed his nose against her hand. "I'm sorry I haven't been to visit." She moved around to his side, picking up a brush and running it over his neck. She felt the tension drain out of her, her movements cathartic and soothing. "I don't know what I'm doing here anymore, Shadow. I mean, they're here, within arm's reach for the first time in my life…. And I can't do anything about it. If the king mysteriously dies within the Stark's castle, they will automatically be blamed and as much as I hate to admit it, I don't want to put them in that kind of danger." She paused, resting her forehead against his neck. "I grew up with this big, grand plan for revenge and now that I'm away from home I realize I don't have any plan at all. I'm only eight and ten years old. How am I supposed to bring my family's murderers to justice?" She snorted, shaking her head. "If only my father could see me now. He probably wouldn't say it, but his look would have 'I told you so,' written all over it. I just wish someone would tell me what to do," she sighed.

Maliya straightened as she heard a distant shout. Peering curiously over the stall door, Maliya looked around but couldn't see anybody in sight. Putting down the brush, she kissed Shadow on the nose before letting herself out of the stall and creeping towards the entrance to the stables. For a moment Maliya couldn't see anything, but when her eyes adjusted she saw a lone rider in the night. Several guards approached the rider and a few minutes later so did a man with an elderly gait, one she recognized as the maester of Winterfell. She saw him take something from the rider, but she wasn't close enough to hear what was said.

Her curiosity was peaked. What could be so important, so secretive, that the rider had to deliver it in the middle of the night?

Without even having the conscious thought to do so, Maliya found herself following Maester Luwin as he walked quickly back into the castle. She kept to the shadows as best she could, tiptoeing to avoid the sounds of her heels clicking against the floor. There was one heart stopping moment where Maester Luwin looked over his shoulder with a frown, but luckily Maliya was able to duck into an alcove, heart hammering, until he continued on.

She had spent most of the past two moons learning her way around the castle, and she realized that Maester Luwin was heading to the corridor where their bedchambers were located. They passed her room and the rest of the Stark children's and with a jolt of anticipation and horror, he turned the corner and stopped in front of Lord and Lady Stark's bedchambers.

Maliya strained her ears, listening and peering around the corner as Maester Luwin knocked three times. Someone must have answered him because he called out, "It's Maester Luwin, My Lord."

Maester Luwin opened the door and stepped inside and Maliya made her move. Holding her breath, she quickly hurried to the door, catching it softly before it latched closed. Looking wildly around to make sure there was no one coming down the corridor, and praying that no one interrupted, Maliya pressed her ear to the crack to listen.

"- rider in the night, My Lady," Maester Luwin was saying. "From your sister."

Maliya wracked her brains, trying to remember her studies. Lady Catelyn was originally a Tully. She had a younger brother as well as an older sister whose name Maliya couldn't recall. Lady Catelyn and her sister were married in a double ceremony, to Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King. Who was dead…Maliya realized with another jolt, heart beating in excitement.

Could this be what she was waiting for? Could this be a piece of information that she could use and send back home?

She listened even harder, not wanting to miss a single word.

"This was sent from the Eerie!" Lady Stark exclaimed, sounding shocked and confused. "What is she doing at the Eerie? She hasn't been back there since her wedding."

There was a long tense moment of silence in which Maliya guessed Lady Stark was reading the letter. "What news?" Lord Stark asked, his voice moving closer.

"She fled the capital," Lady Stark answered in a low, emotional voice. "She says Jon Arryn was murdered… by the Lannisters. She says the King is in danger!"

Maliya's eyes widened drastically, her face paling at what she was hearing. She almost couldn't hear them speaking over the pounding of her heart. "She's fresh widowed Cat," Lord Stark told her quickly, making Maliya roll her eyes in annoyance. "She doesn't know what she's saying –"

"Lysa's head would be on a spike right now if the wrong people had found that letter. Do you think she would risk her life, her _son's_ life is she wasn't certain her husband was murdered?" Lady Stark's voice was adamant, already convinced that her sister's words were true.

"If this news is true, and the Lannister's conspire against the throne… who but you can protect the King?" The third voice asked.

"They murdered the last Hand!" Lady Stark cried in horror. "Now you want Ned to take the job?"

"The King rode for a month to ask for Lord Stark's help," Maester Luwin softly reminded her. "He's the only one he trusts."

"He spent half his life fighting Robert's wars," Lady Stark argued, sounding angry now. "He owes him nothing. Your father and brother rode south once on a King's demand."

"A different time. A different King," Maester Luwin murmured.

"Thank you Maester Luwin," Lord Stark responded in a heavy voice. "I'll need to think on this."

Maliya took this as her cue and hastily picked up her skirts and ran. She didn't stop until she was well out of sight, her mind whirling, one hand on the wall as she panted. Shock was still running through her system. The Lannisters had murdered the hand of the King and were going after King Robert next. And Lord Stark might be riding south to take the murdered man's place.

She paused, thinking for half a moment before turning around and heading back. She adopted a leisurely pace in case she ran into anyone as she headed back to her bedchamber. When she carefully opened the door, she saw the Robb was peacefully sleeping in the bed, resting on his stomach, his arm thrown across her side. She tiptoed over to her trunk, slowly opened it and pulled out the Martell seal. If her father saw this seal on her letter, he would know that it was from her. She quietly closed the door behind her and made her way upstairs to write her letter.

 _Hello Father,_

 _I hope everything is going well back home. Things have settled in nicely here as I get to know my new family. They can't compare to everyone back home, who I miss immensely. How is everyone doing?_

 _My job here has proven rather difficult. While animal watching today, I met a stag and a couple lions for the first time, which was pretty intimidating. Turns out someone saw a lion kill one of the falcons from down south. I think it still hungers though. I saw it turn its eye to the lone stag._

 _I'm going to keep a close eye on its progress. They say winter is approaching here, but I hope that the sun stays bright for a little while longer._

 _Give everyone my love back home,_

 _Your loving daughter_

* * *

"Hello, Princess." Maliya looked over her shoulder from the table where she was brushing her hair and saw Robb enter their bedchambers, a grin on his face and his hands behind his back.

Maliya, on the other hand, frowned as she examined his excited expression, complete with a twinkle in his eyes. "What are you so happy about?"

He slowly walked toward her. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I seem to recall someone saying that she could kick my ass in swordfighting." He pulled his hands out from behind his back to reveal a sword, his lips quirked in a half smile. "Care to see if there's any truth to that statement?"

Maliya fully turned around, cocking her head to the side and crossing her arms. "That depends. Is that sword supposed to be for me?"

Robb looked down at it in confusion. "Well yeah, it was supposed to be – "

Maliya scoffed, striding across the room to her trunk and rummaging around the bottom, making sure most of her body blocked what else was in there. It would be extremely bad if Robb saw her Moon Tea ingredients or the poison she had hidden in there. She pulled out her own sword, already loving the feel of its familiar weight. "This," she declared, unsheathing it so he could see. "This is my sword."

He took it in his right hand, lifting and testing it. "It's beautifully made, and lighter than expected. What is it made of? Valyrian steel?"

"Yes, actually. Us Martells had a Valyrian steel sword as one of our family heirlooms for generations. My Uncle Oberyn took it overseas to Qohor a few summers back – the blacksmiths there are some of the few in the world who can rework Valyrian steel."

"It's beautiful," he murmured, handing it back to her. "But I don't think it will be enough to beat me."

A competitive smile slowly spread across her face. "You sound awfully confident, Lord Stark. Are you positive that you want to challenge me? I was trained by one of the most fearsome fighters in Westeros, you know."

"As was I," Robb countered immediately. "Ser Rodrick may not be as well known throughout Westeros as your uncle, but he is a gifted knight with a lot of experience. I think we will be well matched."

"Alright, husband. Let's find out, shall we?" They grinned at each other for a moment before Robb gestured to the door, eyebrows raised. "After you."

They headed down to the training grounds, a certain tension in the air between them. It was full of anticipation and mingled with excitement and adrenaline. They didn't meet anyone while they walked. The few maids and servants they did see, however, gave Maliya strange looks as she passed. She could only imagine what they were thinking. _What is that highborn lady, that princess, doing with a sword?_

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Princess?" Robb asked once he had retrived his sword and they reached the training rings. By some unspoken agreement, the two began to circle each other, swords at the ready.

Her lips quirked. "My first name is Maliya, not Princess. Would you like it if I called you _Lord_?"

His eyes glittered, as he twirled his sword in his hand. "I think I would, actually."

Maliya scoffed and rolled her eyes and Robb chose that moment to attack. She quickly raised her own sword to defend herself, but she just grinned, knowing that he wasn't going to go easy on her just because she was a woman. She blocked his every cut, slash and parry that he attempted, studying his fighting style once more.

He was stronger than her, obviously – she could feel the strength of his blows jarring through her arms. She was quicker, however, and was able to anticipate the moves that he was most likely to make next. Their amused, playful banter faded immediately once their competitive natures kicked in. While it was apparent that both of them were holding back in order to avoid cutting each other to ribbons, they were pulling out every move within their repertoire to beat the other.

Their eyes were narrowed in concentration, sweat was beginning to gather on their brows, and the only sound she could hear was their heavy breathing and the sound of steel against steel. All her senses were usually heightened when fighting, but there was something different about this particular one. She was always aware of his presence; the brush of his body up against hers, the flash of blue in his eyes when he stared down at her, only to spin away again.

It was entirely too distracting and she found herself planning moves that would bring them closer together once more. So much so, in fact, that she blatantly ignored a few openings to end it just to prolong the fight as long as possible.

"You better not be holding back on me, Princess," Robb grunted. "I want to see what you can really – "

Copying his move from earlier, Maliya took her chance while he was still speaking. In a swift little manevoure, she circled her sword around his, flicking it out of his hand. He caught her wrist before she could bring the sword point up to his neck. He squeezed the pressure point in her wrist so she dropped the sword and tugged her closer to him, trying to spin her so her back was to his front and he could get a grip on her. She allowed him pull her closer, but in the process she hooked a foot around his ankle.

As predicted, he lost his balance, but she thought that he would let go in his surprise. She ended up falling on top of his chest, her eyes wide. He grabbed her wrists and flipped them over in an attempt to get the upper hand. She wriggled free, using the momentum and her hips and they rolled a few times.

Robb ended up on top, his grin victorious. It quickly faded, however, when he felt the point of her dagger pressed against his heart.

Slowly, carefully, he reached between them and grasped her wrist, pinning it behind her head along with her other one.

Her heat was pounding still, but for another reason altogether. Both of them were breathing heavily, and her brown eyes met his in confusion, getting lost as she tried to decipher his expression. His eyes were a darker blue than usual, and his face was both thoughtful and curious. When he unconsciously licked his lips, she felt her lower stomach swoop with a hot, rushing sensation.

He hesitated, his eyes searching hers for another long moment, before his head began to lower. Her breathing picked up in anticipation, her hands flexing, and her eyes fluttering closed. He was going to kiss her and she didn't know if she should stop him or not.

Their lips were just about to touch when a high, piercing scream caused them to fly apart. "What in the seven hells was that?" Maliya gasped as Robb rolled off her, helping her to her feet. Their almost kiss was already forgotten as they each grabbed their fallen swords and Maliya put her dagger away.

"It sounded close," Robb called over his shoulder as he took off towards the scream, Maliya right on his heels. "Hurry!"

They sprinted across the lawn and around the other side of the castle. One of the female servants was standing there frozen, a basket of vegetables strewn on the ground around her as she stared in horror at a body on the floor.

"Bran?" Robb muttered in confusion, his steps faltering. "Bran!" He ran over and knelt by Bran, throwing his sword to the side without a second thought.

"My – My Lord. My Lady!" The servant gasped, stricken. Her face was pale and her eyes were spread wide, frightened. "I – I saw him fall from the tower, I didn't know what to do – "

"Go get help – hey. Hey!" Maliya strode over to the woman, grabbing her arms and giving her a slight shake. The woman's scared gaze finally met her own. "Go get help," Maliya repeated slowly, making sure she had her attention. ""Find Lord and Lady Stark. And Maester Luwin. Go! Hurry!"

The woman gave a disjointed nod of her head before picking up her skirts and running off.

Maliya dropped her sword and fell to her knees, uncaring of the dirt and stains that she was getting on her dress. "Is he - ?" She asked worriedly, glancing up at Robb.

"He's alive," Robb cut in sharply before she could finish her sentence. "I can see his chest rising and falling."

"I don't understand," Maliya murmured wildly, squinting up at the tower and then back down at Bran. "I thought you said he's never fallen – "

"Well obviously I was wrong," Robb snapped harshly, his eyes flashing. Maliya fell silent at once as a chagrined, exasperated look crossed his face. "Maliya I'm – "

"Don't," Maliya shook her head. "Let's focus on Bran. What do we do?"

"He's not waking up," Robb told her in a strangled voice, his hands hovering over Bran's body. "I can't get him to wake up and I don't want to try and shake him awake. What if something's broken?"

Maliya floundered, at a loss for words. She didn't know what to do or say in a situation like this. She shifted closer to Bran, brushing his hair back from his face with shaking fingers. "Bran? Bran can you hear me? Open your eyes, Bran, please!" She pulled back to look at his little face and there wasn't even a flicker of movement. "Maester Luwin will know what to do, Robb, he'll know how to help – "

There was a sharp cry of disbelief and horror as Lord and Lady Stark came running out of the castle. Maliya quickly moved to the side as they joined Robb, firing questions at him in voices stricken with fear. Tears were streaming down Lady Stark's face as Maester Luwin joined them as fast has his old bones would carry him.

Everything happened very quickly after that. Maester Luwin didn't want to jostle Bran too much when they moved him inside the castle, so Lord Stark ordered his men to build a small, sturdy bed contraption out of wood. Maliya watched them hurry inside, her arms wrapped around her stomach, worry eating at her insides.

Maliya was left behind, but that was alright with her. She still didn't really consider herself part of this family and she wouldn't know what to do in this situation. She didn't want to get in their way or loiter around outside the room, so she just went back to her own bedchambers, collapsing backwards on the bed. She waited for Robb to come back to the room, but hours went by.

She accidentally fell asleep and her dreams were dark and twisted. She dreamed she was sitting on some sort of throne, a crown on her head and a sword in her hand. People were lined up before her, their hands in chains and fear on their faces. There was a dark, crazed feeling inside swirling around inside of her, but at the same time she felt like an observer staring down at herself. Her face was different than the one she sees in the looking glass, her brown eyes emotionless and uncaring, her face a terrifying mask. Her sword arm raised, pointing at the people in chains and her eyes widened in horror as faceless guards materialized out of nowhere, each of them swinging an ax and taking the prisoners' heads off their shoulders.

Maliya woke with a startled gasp, glancing wildly around the room, which had darkened while she had been asleep. Collapsing back against the pillows and attempting to calm her heart, Maliya had to acknowledge what had been bothering her for more than a few days now, ever since Lord Stark had told her that her grandfather had been crazy.

She was just wondering whether the Stark library would have any information on him or the rest of her family when the bedchamber door opened and closed. A tall figure was standing there, facing the door, and she jumped when he suddenly cursed, slamming his fist against the door repeatedly.

"Robb?" She called in alarm, slipping off the bed. "Robb don't – " She tried to grab his arm but he turned with a snarl, shoving her back several steps, causing her to stumble and fall.

She watched through the moonlight as Robb's eyes cleared, really noticing her for the first time. "Princess," he gasped, horrified as he went over to kneel beside her. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were here – "

"It's alright," she murmured softly, ignoring her bruised bum and moving up to her knees, watching him closely. "I didn't know where else to go, I didn't want to get in the way. How… how is Bran?"

Robb sighed, an exhausted looking crossing his face as he collapsed with his back against the bed, his head in his hands. "It doesn't look good," he whispered hoarsely, looking emotionally strung out. "Maester Luwin looked him over – his back is broken as well as his legs. If – If he does wake up…he'll never be able to walk again."

Maliya heard the suffering and grief in his voice and once again didn't know what to say. She didn't want to offer empty assurances or promises that would be useless and only upset him. "I'm sorry, Robb," she said instead, knowing that her words did nothing to help him. She tried to put herself in his shoes, tried to imagine that it was Trystane that was injured instead of Bran, but even thinking about it hurt too much.

Thankfully, Robb seemed not to hear her. "What if he doesn't wake up?" He blurted, turning his head to look at her with desperation and fear in his eyes. "He's only nine years old, he doesn't deserve to have his life cut so short."

Maliya blinked back the tears in her eyes, reaching out and putting a hand on his arm. "Bran is a strong boy, full of life and determination. Your mother and father and Maester Luwin will do everything in their power to save him! You have to hold on to that hope, Robb, don't give up just yet."

She moved closer as his shoulders began to shake, putting an arm around his shoulder in an attempt to offer any bit of comfort that she could. He leaned his head against her as the fear of losing his little brother overwhelmed him and Maliya was reminded that even though their families would say otherwise, her and Robb were still little more than children. She didn't respect him any less for breaking down in front of her. It was the opposite, in fact. It showed how much he loved his family and that he was willing to be vulnerable in front of her.

As Maliya held him, she sent up a prayer to both the old gods and the new that Bran would live to see another day.

Somewhere outside, a wolf began to howl.

* * *

Maliya was just finishing dressing and slipping her sun necklace into her dress when there was a stirring behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Robb waking up, rubbing his eyes and sitting up on his elbow, his eyes falling on her. "Where are you off to?" He yawned. "Don't tell me you're off to the library again! That'll be the fourth time this week."

"I am going to the library again, eventually. You didn't tell me that you have such an expansive set of books," Maliya agreed with a smile, not telling him the real reason. That she was scouring anything she could find to see if there was any cases of a person with a broken back who got up to walk again. She walked over to the bed and rubbing Grey Wind's head. He gave her hand a lazy lick from where he was lounging on the foot of their bed and her smile widened. "I was thinking of taking up some food to your mother first, to see if she'll eat anything."

A faint smile crossed his face. "I think she'd like that." He sighed, the ever-present worry creeping back into his eyes. "I'm worried about her," he admitted in a low voice. "Even though Maester Luwin says the worst is behind us, she hasn't left Bran's room since he fell and I don't think she's slept at all. I don't know what to do."

"You're doing all you can," Maliya assured him, sitting next to him on the bed. "You've really stepped up since the accident, Robb. You've been there for your mother and your father, you're helping taking care of Rickon, Sansa and Arya. You're doing everything you can to help."

He sat up further, bringing them closer together, his blue eyes warm. He lifted a hand and brushed a stray hair behind her ear, his hand lingering near her cheek. "Thank you for being there for me and my family, Maliya."

Hesitating only slightly, Maliya took his hand and pressed a soft kiss to his palm, flashing back to their 'almost kiss' at their sparring match, which seemed like ages ago. His eyes flared as he watched her, causing a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. "I should go," she blurted, trying a smile to cover her awkwardness. "I'll – I'll see you later."

She tried not to make it look like she was fleeing, but that was exactly what she was doing. She was trying to avoid examining that fluttery feeling in her stomach that she got around Robb sometimes, and so she pushed it to the side and headed to the kitchens. After grabbing a tray of biscuits and juice, she headed up to Brans room, knocking hesitantly on the door and peering inside.

"Lady Stark?" She asked cautiously. "May I come in? I've brought some food for you."

Lady Stark nodded without looking at her and Maliya stepped inside, walking over to the table and putting the tray down. She walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down on it, gently picking up Bran's hand. Poor Bran was looking worse everyday. His skin was paler than usual and it seemed to stretch tight across his bones, giving him a guant appearance.

Lady Stark wasn't looking much better. There were dark rings under her tired, worried eyes, her usually brilliant red hair was looking tangled and ratty and even her dress looking more frumpled than usual. Maliya frantically cast her mind for something to say, but it was Lady Stark who spoke first, her eyes on her son. "Being a mother is both a beautiful and terrifying thing. You raise your children, wanting them to experience all the joys in life and yet at the same time afraid of the things that can hurt them. You'll learn this once you become a mother. Everything about your children is painful in some way. The emotions, whether it be joy, sorrow, pride or love, were so sharp that in the end they leave you raw and exposed. As they grow older and become the person who they were meant to be, they drift farther and farther away from you. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that - a parent's heart bared, beating forever outside its chest."

Maliya watched her good mother with a worried expression, her voice slightly raw from lack of use. "You should really get some sleep, My Lady," Maliya told her softly, her face sympathetic as she listened to Lady Stark's mumbled ramblings. "Maester Luwin is hopeful that Bran will wake up – "

"And what if he doesn't?" Lady Stark asked, her sharp blue eyes looking over at Maliya for the first time. "He's not one hundred percent certain about anything. My son may never wake up and I cannot risk falling asleep and missing what may very well be his last few moments. He needs me and I will not leave his side."

Maliya felt wretched. "My Lady – "

"Thank you for the food," Lady Stark interjected, turning away from her once more in dismissal. "I would like to be left alone now."

Maliya swallowed the words that she wanted to say and bowed her head. She squeezed Bran's hand one more time before getting up and leaving the room. She shut the door behind her and wandered away, a deep frown on her face. The conversation between her and Lady Stark hadn't gone all that well, though she supposed it could have gone worse. This was more difficult for her than she thought it would be.

She not only knew nothing about being a mother, but she had never known grief and pain such as this. Her father, mother and brother had died when she was too young to remember them. She had never lost someone close to her or known anyone to have such a serious accident as Bran's. Was it any wonder that she had no idea what to say to Lady Stark?

Maliya saw the pain, grief, and desperation in Lady Stark's eyes – if this was what becoming a mother was like, she was more grateful for her Uncle's gift than ever. If children caused this much pain, why would she ever want that for herself?

"Hello, Lady Maliya." Maliya was pulled from her thoughts, looking up in surpise at the soft voice and finding herself face to face with none other than Queen Cersei. She was clutching a shawl around her shoulders, a small smile on her face though Maliya thought her eyes always had a calculating look in them.

"My Queen," Maliya murmured, dropping into a curtsy while cursing herself in her head. She really should have been paying better attention to where she was going.

"You shouldn't frown so, My Lady, it causes you to age quicker than you would like," Queen Cersei commented, tilting her head to the side. "What were you thinking about?"

"Why anyone would ever want to become a mother," Maliya answered truthfully with a rueful smile.

The Queen's lips quirked. "Come. Have a cup of tea with me. It is the only thing that keeps me warm in this god forsaken place." She didn't wait for an answer, just turned on her heel and led the way to her bedchambers. Maliya stifled a sigh, her brain racing as she tried to think of an excuse to get her out of this torture but she came up with nothing useful. She could hardly refuse the Queen of Westeros.

The Queen's bedchambers were fancier than even Robb's, but with the way she looked around, it was apparent that she was used to something more opulent. There was a small table with a pot of steaming tea and a few cups. Maliya sat after the Queen, trying to appear relaxed but in reality her body was as taut as a bowstring. In every sense of the word, Maliya felt like she had wandered right into the lion's den.

A maid that Maliya hadn't noticed walked over to pour tea into both of their cups. Queen Cersei waved her away before picking up her own and taking a sip, her green eyes searching Maliya's face. "How long have you been married to the Young Wolf?" She asked in her soft voice.

Maliya frowned, thinking back and and feeling surprised by the answer. "I suppose it's been…. Almost four months now."

"And how are you liking married life?"

If that wasn't a loaded, difficult question then she didn't know what was. "It's complicated," Maliya answered after a moment, as truthfully as she could.

Queen Cersei's lips quirked in amusement. "I remember when I used to think the same thing," she commented drily. Maliya noted that the amusement never quite reached her eyes. "I was young back then. Young, naïve, and utterly stupid." Maliya blinked in surprise at the sudden bitterness in her voice. The Queen took another sip of tea. "As the years painfully and slowly go by, you'll learn that marriage is the simplest thing in this world. The man is free to do what and whoever he pleases, while the woman must be the perfect lady, poised and polite. Said man will occasionally stumble into the woman's bedroom to get his pleasure and to put his seed in her belly to ensure his wife will bear his children."

Digust filled Maliya at the picture the Queen was painting and she found herself automatically shaking her head. "Granted I haven't known Robb very long, but I don't believe that he's that type of person."

"All men are that type of person," Queen Cersei disagreed, still smiling though it looked slightly forced. "You might believe that you don't want children, but once you're with child – if you're not already – they are going to become your whole world." Maliya must have looked doubtful because she continued on. "You'll see. You spend nine moons creating another person inside of you, this tiny little miracle. And even though giving birth is the single most painful experience in your life, it's worth it. Your child will need you and depend on you…. And love you unconditionally."

"It sounds… wonderful," Maliya lied with what she hoped was a convincing smile. "Though I don't feel ready in the least."

"These things rarely happen at a time of our choosing," Queen Cersei told her, raising an eyebrow. She appraised her for a second, before learning forward slightly. "My dear husband," she began her words dripped with acid. "May not pay attention to political matters or affairs in far away countries such as Dorne, but I've always been aware of the young princess who was rumored to look so much like the beautifully exotic Elia Martell."

"Why?" Maliya asked, mystified, flattered and a little concerned.

"Honestly? It is no secret that after the events thirteen years ago, that Dorne has not been a friend to the crown. I like to keep my eye on any potential… threats to me and my family. I'm sure you can understand that."

Maliya had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep the slightly crazed grin off her face. That was _exactly_ what she was doing here in the north. Her brown eyes met the Queen's green one and she dropped the polite façade. "I know exactly what you mean," Maliya answered, tilting her head to the side, the corner of her mouth lifting. "I would do anything to protect my family."

"I'm glad to hear that," Queen Cersei acknowledged with a tilt of her head. "While it is apparent that you have somewhat adjusted to life…. Here." Her voice held thinly veiled disgust as her eyes trailed over Maliya's dress. It was one of her newer ones, taking after the northern style with a Dornish twist of a lower cut front. "I hope that you'll consider putting the sins and preconceived notions of our fathers behind us and we can have a somewhat…. Civilized relationship."

 _Not a chance in hell._ Maliya swallowed her rage at the Queen's audacity, making sure not a flicker of it crossed her face. The Queen's words were not a mere suggestion. Her tone implied that she put those sins behind her… or else.

Maliya needed to play this dance delicately. She was alone in a room with the most powerful woman in all of Westeros, the daughter of the man who had her mother and brother murdered and possibly the woman who had murdered the Hand of the King. She didn't want to get on the Queen's bad side…not yet, anyway.

Maliya smiled at the Queen, playing the roll of the young, innocent princess and spouting the lines that she wanted to hear. "I'm honored that you think so highly of me, My Queen. While I understand my father and uncle's positions on the subject, I've been somewhat removed from it I suppose. I've never met my aunt Elia, so it doesn't hurt the same," she lied. _It hurts worse._ "I have no quarrel with you, My Queen. I am your loyal subject."

The Queen's grin widened slowly, and Maliya was unsure if she had imagined the flash of triumph in her eyes. "I am glad to hear it, My Lady. There is no reason for the North and the South to be enemies. I'm glad you feel the same way."

Maliya returned her smile, her insides squirming with disgust as herself. It felt like she was betraying her family and it wasn't a feeling that she liked.

Maliya shivered as the cold wind reached inside her sleeves to eat at her skin, pulling her cloak tighter around herself as she quickly walked across the grounds of Winterfell. It was turning out to be a very strange day. From her conversation with Lady Stark this morning, the one she just had with the Queen and the dark gray almost black clouds that were roiling across the sky.

It turns out that the weirdness wasn't over. As Maliya climbed the exterior stairs and entered through the doors of the library tower, she saw none other than Tyrion Lannister lounging on one of the chairs, a large book on his lap and a cup of wine in his hand. "Lady Stark!" He called jovially, raising his cup. She must have made a face, because he grinned. "Don't like the new name?"

Maliya shook her head, moving inside and taking off her cloak. "It's not that. You're just the first person to call me by my new name. I guess I'm just not used to it yet." She sat in the chair next to him with a sigh. "What are you reading about?"

"Dragons," Lord Tyrion answered, waggling his eyebrows. "Winterfell has a surprisingly extensive collection of books on them. There are even some rare Valyrian scrolls on the back bookshelves."

Maliya's interest was peaked, but she didn't let it show. She just put that in the back of her mind to examine when she was alone in the library. "You have an interest in dragons?"

"Doesn't every young boy?" Lord Tyrion joked, sitting up straighter. "I used to dream that I had a dragon of my own, that I could fly in the sky and everyone beneath me would be smaller than I was, for once."

Maliya's lips lifted into a sad smile. "I had the same dream. I used to imagine how freeing it would be to just jump on the back of a dragon and fly away, to forget all your cares or worries. I wish all the time that my cousins, Aunt Elia's children had lived and that I had known them. They had Targaryen blood running through their veins, the blood of the dragon! It would have been nice to know them."

She watched his reaction closely. He had looked away at the mention of, well, herself and her brother, though it was only for a second. "I take it that you've never been to King's Landing. The Targaryens used to hang the dragon skulls in the throne room after they died. When Robert Baratheon became King, he had them moved to the cellars. I went down there after my sister was married – they were huge – awe-inspiring, majestic and every other synonym that you can think of. Balerion's skull was the largest of course, but Vhagar and Meraxes were right behind him. You know, I would have thought that having a dragon was lucky if it weren't for the Targaryen madness."

"The what?" Maliya asked, her voice slightly higher pitched than usual as alarm spread through her.

"The Targaryen madness," Lord Tyrion repeated, grunting as he reached over to fill his cup once more. "It's said that everytime a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin to determine if he or she will have the madness." He didn't seem to notice her sudden discomfort. "King Aerys the second was the worst, of course, he used to burn people and laugh. But there was also Aerion Brightflame who drank wildfire believing it would transform him into a dragon. Prince Rhaegal had massive delusions and was known to take his clothes off and dance naked through the halls of the Red Keep. Though I always admired him for that." He grinned widely.

Fear spread through her. The darkest parts of herself, the ones that she was terrified to examine too closely… was that the Targaryen madness? Was she crazy?

"I would have loved to see them," Maliya told him in a soft voice. "The dragon skulls I mean. Not a naked Targaryen." _And I would have too, if it weren't for your fucking father._

"I used to set fires in the bowels of Casterly Rock and stare at the flames for hours, pretending they were dragonfire. Sometimes I'd imagine my father burning. Sometimes my sister." Maliya's eyes widened at his honest, casual statement and he laughed. "It is no secret that my father and sister hate me for the death of my mother, Lady Stark. A failure in every sense of the word." Maliya's mouth opened and closed, at a complete loss for words and he gave another derisive snort. "I think I've had one too many of these," he joked, lifting his cup and draining it. He slid off the chair and got to his feet, stumbling only slightly. "If you're interested in dragons, there's a whole section on them here. Did you ever hear the rumor about Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and Cregan Stark?" She shook her head. "It's rumored his dragon, Vermax, laid a clutch of eggs somewhere in Winterfell. I've been searching this whole damn library for evidence and haven't found a damn thing." He sighed mournfully. "Maybe you can do what I cannot."

Maliya gave a doubtful snort. "Do you really believe that there are dragon eggs? _Here?_ "

Lord Tyrion looked at her with his mismatched eyes. "I believe that anything is a possibility in this world." He glanced out the window where it had just begun to rain. "I wouldn't stay too long, My Lady. The sky doesn't look too friendly – a storm might be approaching."

Maliya gave him a closed lip smiled and nodded. With a small wave, Lord Tyrion tucked his book under his arm and left.

After yet another interesting conversation with a Lannister, Maliya wandered over to the back section of the library that Lord Tyrion had gestured to. She grabbed a few of them, anything that looked interested, the big ones, the small ones and even the ones that were falling apart.

She spent what must have been hours pouring over those books, cramming in as much of her family's history as she could. She learned more in those couple of hours than she had in three and ten years from her father and uncle, who for some reason weren't very forthcoming about her ancestry.

Her mind was whirling. The three-headed dragon on the Targaryen sigil represented Aegon the Conqueror and his two sisters Rhaenys and Visenya. When they conquered Westeros, they abandoned their Valyrian gods for the Faith of the Seven, but unfortunately continued the tradition of marrying their own family members. Maliya wrinkled her nose at the thought that she might have had to marry her brother. Suddenly Robb Stark didn't seem so bad.

The information that she read about the dragons saddened her. The Targaryens housed the dragons in an immense domed structure in what was called the Dragonpit. The reign of the dragons dwindled as the wars continued and infirmity called each generation to die out. The last dragon that lived was deformed and sterile. He died very young. Over time, the remaining dragon eggs hardened, turned to stone and dragons were never seen again.

Maliya jumped when a sudden gust of wind blew through the open library window, snuffing out her candles. She quickly leapt up and ran over, her hair blowing everywhere, her face pelted with freezing rain as she struggled to close the shutters. Brushing her hair back, she walked back over to the table and lit new candles.

Thunder crashed loudly overhead as she finally got the candles lit and when she turned around to place it on the table, a dark figure was standing there. She bit back a shriek, raising the light until Jon Snow's face came into view. "Seven hells, Jon," Maliya gasped, a hand on her chest over her frantically beating heart. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"No." Jon grinned, then shook his drenched hair, spraying her with rain water and making her laugh.

"Stop that!" She chuckled, punching his arm with her free hand. She collapsed backwards onto the chair again, casually closing the book that she had been reading so Jon wouldn't see it. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you!" He answered, sitting in the chair next to her, ignoring his soaked clothes, his smile fading slightly. "You missed dinner tonight and I have some news that I had to tell everyone. I came to tell you personally so you didn't hear it from anyone else."

Maliya pushed her surprise to the side – she hadn't even realized how late it was. Jon was normally a very serious, subdued person, but there was a graveness to his expression that she hadn't seen before. Her own expression mirrored his, a frown crossing her face and her eyebrows furrowing in concern. "What is it, Jon?" Maliya asked, leaning forward and placing a hand on his arm. "Is everything alright?"

He sighed, taking a deep breath. "I'm leaving, Maliya. My Uncle Benjen's agreed to take me north, to the wall. I'm going to join the Night's Watch."

Another loud crackle of thunder rolls across the sky, this time accompanied by a streak of hot silver that split through the clouds right above the castle. Maliya ignored it.

She pulled away from Jon, sitting up straight in her shock, feeling both alarmed and confused. "What?" She whispered, her eyes wide. She shook her head frantically. "No, you can't leave! Lord Stark is leaving with the King and his royal party, and they're already taking Sansa and Arya with them! You can't leave too, Jon, you just can't! Robb needs you here – "

"And what about what I need?" Jon asked in a quiet voice, making her snap her mouth shut. "I love Robb and Arya and the rest of my siblings, but there is no future for me here. Lord Stark allows me to live here, but it will be Robb who inherits Winterfell. I'm a bastard, Maliya, and living here only serves to remind me of that fact." Maliya knew that he was speaking of Lady Stark but even now he was too polite and respectful to say something bad about her. "I have to make my own name for myself. Becoming a man of the Night's Watch is an honorable calling. I'll be able to use my skills with a sword in order to protect the Seven Kingdom's from the wildlings and make Westeros a better place."

Maliya swallowed hard, feeling incredibly sad, like she was losing something special and important. "I don't want you to go," she told him in a shaky voice. He made to speak again but she held up a hand and continued. "But I understand your decision even if I don't like it. I know what it's like to want to make your own path in life," she smiled softly. She looked down, playing with her fingers. "I just – I feel like we were becoming really good friends. You're one of the only people here that I feel that I can truly talk to. You've been kinder to me than I could have thought possible."

Jon's smile was sad. "You've been a friend to me as well, Maliya, but even more than that, you've become family. You're tough and you have a large heart, but most importantly you're not afraid to speak your mind. I'm glad Robb has someone like you." Maliya had to bite her lip as her eyes began to fill. This was hitting her absurdly hard and she felt like she was saying goodbye to her family all over again. "Come here," he murmured, standing and pulling her to her feet so he could pull her into a hug. He was still completely soaked, but Maliya didn't care. "This isn't goodbye Maliya," he told her lightly, pulling away. "I'm only moving a few hours further north, we can – "

A sudden blinding light filled the room along with the earsplitting sound of splintering wood and a defeaning crack of thunder. Maliya was knocked aside by the falling beams and was sent crashing through the nearest bookshelf, books tumbling down on top of her, one heavy one in particular hitting her in the temple and knocking her out.

Maliya groaned when she came to again, squinting and blinking against her blurry vision and the strange ringing in her ears. It took a few moments for her eyes and senses to clear, wrinkling her nose at the strange smell. Feeling shaky slightly sick, she struggled to sit up, pushing books and splinters of wood off her body.

She hissed in pain when she tried to pull her left leg out from under a wooden beam, and gritted her teeth as she used all her strength to push it off. Ignoring the pain, she pushed herself to her feet, stumbling slightly as the floor tilted alarmingly.

Thick, black smoke hovered throughout the room, causing her to choke immediately, her eyes watering with pain as she tried to squint through it. A large, jagged hole shone in the roof of the library where the lightning had smashed through it. Rain came pouring down inside of it, but there was nothing that could be done about the raging, fiery infurno that the lightning had created when it met the wood.

The flames burned with colors that she didn't think would be possible, and they roared louder than she would have imagined. She watched, fascinated and entranced as the flames danced and leapt, only making brief contact with more books and wood before they instantly became engulfed as well. She could feel the heat of the flames as they slowly approached her like an old friend, but there was no pain on her skin.

It was beautiful. She forgot about the twinge of pain in her ankle or the black smoke invading her lungs. There was nothing but the heat of the fire that beckoned to her, calling her name in a seductive voice.

Slowly, as if in a daze, she reached out a hand to let the flames give it a lick when Jon's face suddenly appeared in her vision, his expression frantic and his eyes wild, a cut dripping blood down his face. His hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her slightly and she focused on him, his shouting voice finally beginning to clear and make sense. " – need to go, we have to get out of here! Let's go, move!"

Reality came crashing back down and she began coughing immediately, looking around with frightened eyes. All of the sudden the flames didn't look so inviting anymore and she knew that if they didn't get out of there, they were going to die.

She nodded, raising her elbow to try and breathe into her cloak, her eyes watering. Jon grabbed her other hand and they began to hurry towards the exit, having to stop multiple times to find another clear path. The flames licked at them as they passed, but they seemed not to notice the pain in their frantic effort to find the exit. All of the sudden her crazed, disjointed mind remembered the books that she had been reading. "Wait!" She cried, tugging her hand free from Jon's and hurrying back the way they had come. She heard him shouting behind her but continued on. The table where she had been reading was destroyed, the books littering the floor. She grabbed as many of them as she could before Jon was grabbing her around the waist and hauling her away, yelling about how crazy she was. She didn't answer him, clutching the only ties to her family that she left here in Winterfell.

She could barely breathe, the smoke hovering thickly around them, and it was hard to see. What wasn't hard to miss, however, was the flaming beam from the roof that was blocking their way to the stairwell that led outside and to safety. Maliya looked up at him wildly. "Is there another way out?" She shouted, her heart wildly beating. Jon looked lost and confused as he shook his head.

Maliya's mind leapt from one frantic thought to the next. How ironic was this. Her family's motto was "Fire and Blood" and she was about to die in an actual fire. The thought of her family only fueled her determination and she turned to Jon with a scowl on her face. "Give me your cloak." At his mystified look, she glared at him and shouted. "Give me your fucking cloak Jon Snow! I am not dying up here, do you understand me?" He nodded, his jaw setting as he reached up to give her his cloak. She shoved the books into his chest and took over her own cloak as well. "We're going to put these over the beams. It might stifle the flames for a moment and we are going to use that and jump over it. It's better to be burned with a few broken bones than dead."

"I'm ready," he shouted, taking his cloak back as she grabbed the books. "On the count of three. One. Two. Three!" They got as close to the beam as possible, and threw their cloaks on it in a way that it covered as much space as possible. "Go, go, go!" Jon shouted, giving her a shove and making her go first. Maliya took a running start, but her injured ankle gave out as she approached the beam and she had to put a hand on it in order to vault herself over. She felt the flames licking against her hand for a moment and then she was flying, or falling rather, down the stairs. The books flew from her arms as she tumbled painfully, and she could hear the sounds of Jon following her down.

She winced as she finally came to a stop on the spiral staircase, but forced herself up. A huge wave of relief filled her as she saw Jon already getting to his feet and scrambled to pick up her books. She might have left a few behind however, because Jon grabbed her elbow and continued to pull her down the stairs. They ran a short distance from the tower and collapsed onto the grass once they reached the ground, coughing and gasping as they breathed in fresh air. Maliya looked up through the rain at the library tower to see the top of it engulfed in flames before turning to look at Jon.

She was shocked by what she saw. Sweat, blood and ashes covered him, but more than that there were several parts of his clothes that were burned, singed off completely. His skin was black from the soot, but there wasn't a single burn on him. She grabbed his arm, making him look at her in confusion as she ran her fingers over his skin. "You're not burned. Why didn't you burn?"

Jon looked down at his own arm before looking at her with wide eyes, holding her hand up close to his face and inspecting it carefully. "Neither did you!" He gaped at her, shaking his head. "I – I don't understand, I saw you put your hand on a beam that was on _fire_ – "

Maliya pulled her hand away, and looked down at herself. The bottom of her dress was singed off and parts of her bare skin on her arm, stomach and leg were showing. "We – we should get somebody to help with the fire – "

"Listen," Jon told her, looking around into the darkness where they could hear the sounds of men shouting, the large bell beginning to toll.

"Jon! Maliya!" They turned to see Lord Stark running towards them, his face pale as his grey eyes quickly took in their singed clothing, formalities apparently forgotten. His expression darkened his eyes calculated as the moments passed. "Are you two alright?" He asked, putting a hand on Jon's shoulder and looking between them both.

"We're fine, Lord Stark," Maliya answered quickly. "We should get help – "

Lord Stark cut her off as if she hadn't even spoken. He took off his cloak and quickly draped it around her shoulders. "Listen to me very carefully," he urged them, speaking quickly. "Jon, I need you to go. Make sure no one sees you. Go to your room and don't come out until I come find you."

Jon looked bewildered, unable to comprehend what his father was telling him. "I don't understand – "

"And you don't need to," Lord Stark interjected, grey eyes thunderous. "Do as you're told! Go!" He gave Jon a small shove on the back and after one last wide eyed, confused glance at Maliya, he ran off into the darkness. "You're coming with me," he ordered her, grabbing her arm and hauling her off in the direction of the castle, taking a route where the people of Winterfell who were rushing to put out the fire would be unable to see them.

What they didn't see was a man in the shadws with a hood drawn over his head, watching the people of Winterfell rush around frantically to put out the fire.

"Lord Stark," she tried, slightly frightened by both the look on his face and his tight grip on her arm, as she hobbled along as quickly as her injured leg could go.

"Quiet," he growled, dragging her all the way to his office where two of his guards stood outside. "Stay here," he ordered, shutting her inside and leaving.

Maliya stood frozen to the spot for a moment, staring at the door as she reeled from the sudden turn of events, rainwater dripping off her to the floor. Looking down, she realized that she was still holding the slightly damp books. Not wanting to be caught with books about the Targaryens, Maliya looked around wildly for a place to stash them. Spotting a large bookshelf among one of the walls, Maliya hurried over and began dispersing her books among his, putting one on every shelf so he wouldn't notice anything out of place.

After that was done, she began to pace the room like a caged animal while she waited for Lord Stark to return. She had a terrible feeling about the way Lord Stark had looked at her outside and she was preparing herself for the worst.

She tensed as the door opened minutes later and Lord Stark entered, looking more solemn than she had ever seen him. His gray eyes were watching her closely and for one terrifying heartstopping moment, it looked as if he could see straight through her.

"I keep going over everything in my mind, repeating all the facts to myself in order to come up with another explanation," he began, his voice strong and threatening at the same time. "But there is nothing else that makes sense and all of the sudden several things seem to click into place. You see, I did some research on you, Maliya Martell of Dorne. I learned all about your fever and difficulties as a child and I know that you weren't shown to the people of Dorne until you were three or four years old. At the time, I thought nothing of it – it's not an uncommon occurrence for a parent to keep a sick child hidden in their home in the hopes that they'll recover. But I can't help but notice that you obviously got caught in the fire and yet you didn't burn. The Targaryens are the only ones who have that sort of relationship with fire, and there was only one girl around your age and given who you look like…"

Dread filled every inch of her body. She could hear her heart pounding loudly in her ears and yet outwardly she appeared deceptively calm. "Say what you mean to say, Lord Stark," she interrupted in a strong voice, her fingers twitching in preparation.

His grey eyes were unflinching as they met hers. "Elia Martell was not your aunt. She was your mother. Your real name is Rhaenys Targaryen."

Before he had even finished speaking, Maliya was lunging across the room, one hand reaching to her thigh sheath as she pinned Lord Stark against the wall, her dagger pressed against his throat.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Don't hate me for that cliffhanger! Or that almost kiss! This scene came to me recently and I couldn't not add it in. What do you think will happen now that Lord Stark knows the truth? Any other theories from the little clues that I left this chapter?**

 **LOTS of exciting things happening next chapter: several goodbyes, Maliya receives long awaited letters, an appearance from someone we haven't seen in a while and something else that I don't even want to mention!**

 **Don't forget to leave a review before you leave!**

Guest 1 – Thanks for your review and for letting me know what you would like to see from the story! I don't want to say too much, but I definitely have ideas about who she really is and if she will become the Queen of Westeros. I hope you tune in to find out!

Juti – I am trying to stay on the storyline! But at the same time, I want to twist events in a different way. The Red Wedding is still far off, although I have a general idea of what I want to happen. Thanks for your review!

Boramir – Thanks for your review, I'm glad you liked the chapter!

Lisa – I'm so happy you think their relationship is progressing at the right place! It's a bit slower than I am used to and I don't want it to become broing or stagnant! Thanks for your review

Ana – Given their age and lack of experience I tried to make their relationship as realistic as possible. Thanks for your review, I'm glad that chapter was your favorite!

Guest 2 – You're too kind! I'm glad you stumbled upon this story as well, I hope you like this next chapter!

Guest 3 – I feel like there aren't enough stories about the martells and the ones that aren't out there don't do them justice. So I'm flattered that you like the premise for this story so far! Thanks for your review!

Guest 4 – Thanks for your review, hope you liked the update!


	8. Burdens

**Author's Note: I am COMPLETELY blown away by your responses to the last chapter and I want to thank each and every one of you for reviewing, favoriting and following my story! Hope everyone enjoys this one just as much!**

 **Don't forget to leave a review!**

* * *

Chapter 8: Burdens

"Be very careful what you say next, Lord Stark," Maliya murmured, her brown eyes flickering between both of his gray ones. She had her left arm barred against his chest, keeping him against the wall, though she knew that if he really wanted to move, he could overpower her. Lord Stark, however, had his hands held out to the sides, his expression calm despite the cold metal pressed against his neck.

"What is your plan here, My Lady?" Lord Stark asked in an even, curious voice. "I'm afraid I would have to advise you against killing me. There are two guards standing outside this door, so you would never escape the room let alone make it out of Winterfell. And even if you did somehow escape, the King would put such a large bounty on your head that you would have nowhere to run."

Maliya knew this already. Her mind was racing, trying to come up with an alternate solution, but it was useless and she knew it. No one had ever learned who she really was before, especially not someone as powerful as Lord Stark. "I don't want to kill you," she hissed, trying to fight the panic rising in her throat. Seven hells, she didn't know what to do. "But I might not have any choice. If anybody finds out who I am, Robert Baratheon will kill me."

"Robert is my friend and my king," Lord Stark admitted, inclining his head slightly. "But every king has his faults and one of Robert's biggest is anything to do with the Targaryens. I give you my word that I won't tell anyone your real identity." He seemed to sense her hesitation. "I already told you that I hated what happened with Elia, Aegon and… well, you. I won't allow yet another senseless killing to occur."

If it were anyone else in all of Westeros, Maliya would have automatically assumed that they were lying. But there was no way to doubt the open, honest look on Lord Stark's face, and she was surprised to find that she trusted him. "Nobody can know. Not your wife, not your children… no one," she warned, her voice firm and insistant.

His smile was sad. "I assure you, My Lady, I can keep a secret. Especially when someone's life is in danger."

Maliya searched his face for another long moment, before dropping the dagger and moving a step back. Shifting her grip on the dagger, her eyes flickered from him, to the door, and back. "What happens now?" She asked in a soft voice, not used to feeling so off balance and uncertain.

Lord Stark gestured to the chairs in his office. "Now we sit – and you tell me your story." He began peppering her with questions as she crossed the rooms to sit. "How long have you known who you truly are? Do the Martells know? How did you end up escaping Kings Landing?"

Maliya kept the dagger in her hand. She may trust Lord Stark for the moment, but she wasn't about to make a stupid mistake. "My father and uncle have never divulged how I escaped. I remember the sharp taste of fear in the back of my throat, the smell of the salt and the rocking of the waves on the boat… but I was only three when it all happened – I can't remember any faces. Whoever it was, though, must have met with my father and uncle because they know my true identity."

"You're calling Prince Doran your father," Lord Stark observed, not one to miss anything.

Maliya's gaze was piercing. "That man adopted me into his family, loved me and raised me. He never outright blamed me, but I know that I was part of the reason that Mellario left. She was never told my real identity. In all of Westeros, there are only five people who were let in on the secret. Me, obviously, my uncles, whoever saved me in King's Landing and now you. No one else can know; it's too dangerous. It may cost them their lives if anyone thinks they were a Targaryen supporter."

"Your secret is safe with me," Lord Stark promised her once more, his smile kind and reassuring, in such contrast to the jumbled, frantic feelings inside of her. "You are married to my son, Maliya, you bear the Stark name, but more than that, you are a good person. I've seen how you interact with my children and though you've only been here a few short months, you are a part of this family."

Uncomfortable with both his words and the warm feeling that they created in her chest, Maliya looked at her lap, catching sight of the burned, blackened and frayed parts of her dress. Frowning in confusion, Maliya looked back up at Lord Stark, suddenly remembering something very important. "It's never happened before, but I could touch the fire – I'm assuming because I have the blood of the dragon, because I'm a Targaryen…." Her voice trailed off, her brown eyes watching him closely as she continued on. "Jon wasn't burned either, which is impossible since he's a Stark. Who is his mother?"

It was almost like Maliya could physically feel Lord Stark shutting down. His face emptied out into a blank mask, and there was an ice-cold look in his eyes. Maliya fought a shiver as he suddenly transformed from a kind, understanding father to the formidable, intimidating Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.

"That is not up for discussion," Lord Stark told her flatly, his voice brooking no argument.

Maliya's eyes widened in disbelief. "What?" She gasped. "But you don't understand, he wasn't burned by the fire – "

"That is not up for discussion," Lord Stark repeated in harsh, slightly raised voice.

She sat there, mouthing wordlessly, completely taken aback. Who in the seven hells was Jon Snow's mother and why didn't Lord Stark want anyone to know? She was torn between wanting to press him for more information and respecting his wishes. Her curiosity was now peaked, however, and she couldn't get the image of Jon's unblemished skin out of her mind. She had just opened her mouth to ask another question when a loud, agitated pounding suddenly came from the door, along with what sounded like a scuffle.

"Father?" Robb shouted through the door, his voice slightly panicked. "Father, what is going on? Tell your guards to let me in! Is Maliya with you? Jory thought he saw her headed towards the library tower before it caught fire, but I can't find her!"

"Cover your dress," Lord Stark urged her quickly. She pulled his much larger cloak further around her body, hoping that it just looked like she was using it for warmth as he got up and walked to the door to let Robb in.

Robb strode in immediately, looking extremely ruffled as his blue eyes flickered around the room quickly before landing on her. She was touched by the relief she could see in the slump of his shoulders; it appeared that he had been worried for her safety and she didn't know how that made her feel. He took a few steps toward her and stopped, hesitating. "Are you alright?" He asked uncertaintly.

Maliya had to stop her gaze from drifting to Lord Stark. She knew that the moment to press for more answers had passed and she also knew that Lord Stark was never going to divulge any information that he felt she shouldn't know. "I'm alright," Maliya assured him, standing on legs that felt surprisingly weak. It appeared that the adrenaline was finally leaving her body and the shock of the night was catching up with her. "Just tired."

Looking concerned, he slipped an arm around her shoulder in support as she approached him. "Come on," he murmured, shooting his father a strange look. "Let's get you to bed."

She let Robb take care of her and lead her out of Lord Stark's office. Her mind was whirling once more, trying to figure out why Lord Stark would want to keep the identity of Jon's mother a secret. Then again… wasn't she keeping her own identity a secret? If her reasoning was because she was trying to protect people she cared about…. Then was Lord Stark's the same? But who was the woman that Lord Stark broke his vows for, and why was just knowing her name so dangerous?

"Maliya? Did you hear me?"

"Hmm?" Maliya blinked, looking up at him, still clutching the cloak close to her. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I was asking why my father brought you into his office."

"Oh, he just wanted to make sure I was alright." Maliya knew that her reasoning was weak at best. She could see the confused look on Robb's face and hurried to distract him. She faked a yawn, leaning more heavily into his side.

His grip tightened on her, his confusion giving way to concen. "Don't fall asleep on me yet, Princess," he tried to joke lightly. "We're almost there."

"Thank you," Maliya murmured softly as he helped her into their bedchambers. She turned to look at him as he hesitated once more by the doorway.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Are you going to be alright? I told the others that I would come back and help put out the fire after I found you."

"Go," she told him with a reassuring smile. "I'm unharmed, Robb, and I can undress myself. You should go… we will talk later."

Robb nodded and turned to go, pausing in the doorway before he closed the door. "Maliya? I'm really glad you're safe." He looked like he wanted to say more, but decided against it and left.

Maliya stared at the closed door for a moment in surprise before shaking herself out of it. With a wince, she threw Lord Stark's cloak on the chair and began to slip out of her ruined dress. She stared down at it, the memory of the beautiful yet terrifying roar of the flames dancing in front of her eyes. She unconsciously found herself gnawing on her bottom lip – wondering if she really did have the Targaryen Madness. For a long, glorious, heartstopping moment, Maliya had reached her hand out as the fire called to her invitingly. If Jon hadn't called her name, hadn't stopped her… would she have walked willingly into the flames?

Not wanting to acknowledge the slight shaking in her hands, Maliya quickly strode over to the lit fireplace and threw the dress inside. She watched it burn, the smell of the burning cloth invading her nose and the fire dancing in her eyes.

* * *

"Are you sure you have to go?" Maliya asked quietly, looking up at Jon from where she was kneeling on the ground, saying her goodbye's to Ghost. She gently scratched behind his ears, no longer unnerved by his blood red eyes. "Bran hasn't woken up yet, and…" she paused, looking around to make sure there was no one to overhear them. "We still haven't figured out why you didn't burn in the fire," she whispered, petting Ghost one more time before standing.

"You didn't burn either," Jon whispered back, shifting uncomfortably. Maliya looked away when he mentioned this, feeling only slightly guilty that she hadn't told him the truth. She told herself over and over again that she was protecting people that she cared about.

"You've been avoiding me, Jon," Maliya muttered, watching him with her brown eyes. "I thought you would be interested in figuring out what happened to us – "

"Lord Stark has forbidden me from discussing it," Jon interrupted, finally revealing the reason why he had avoided spending any time alone with her.

Maliya sent him an incredulous look. "And you just accepted that?"

Jon huffed in frustration. "He's the Lord of Winterfell and my father, Maliya. I'm already the scandalous, bastard son," he spat in a bitter voice. "I don't want to give him yet another reason to be disappointed by me."

Maliya heard the years of pain in his voice and regretfully conceded defeat, backing down and dropping the matter altogether. Though she desperately wanted to learn who Jon's mother was, to know why he hadn't burned in the fire, she didn't want to ruin their final farewell by making him angry with her. "Alright," she nodded, smiling sadly. "I hate that you're leaving, Jon, but I'm proud of you for making your own way. I am truly going to miss you."

He smiled as she pulled him into a hug. "I'll miss you too, Maliya. But we'll see each other again soon. I promise."

Maliya closed her eyes as she held on for one more moment, already feeling like she was losing someone very important to her. She had only known him a few, short months but he had been a comforting presence in a new and scary place. Her expression was sad as she let go. Something over her shoulder caught Jon's eye and she turned to see Robb approaching them, his expression somber.

"Have you said goodbye to Bran?" He asked Jon, his gaze inquisitive. Jon nodded, his smile fading. "He's not going to die," Robb continued in an upbeat, resolute voice. Maliya's lips lifted at the conviction she heard in his voice; she was glad that hope now filled him instead of dread. "I know it."

"You Starks are hard to kill," Jon joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"My mother?"

Jon turned towards his horse, focusing on adjusting the straps of the saddle and keeping his face turned away from Robb. "She was very kind."

"Good," Robb answered and Maliya had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. When it came to his mother and Jon, Robb seemed to have no idea of the tension between the two of them. "Next time I see you, you'll be all in black," Robb grinned as Jon turned to face them both once more.

"It was always my color," Jon quipped, shrugging his shoulders.

"Farewell, Snow."

"And you, Stark." Maliya watched the pair of them as their smiles faded and they pulled each other into a long hug. She felt another pang in her chest, knowing that this must be hard for both of them. They had grown up with each other for six and ten years, had probably never been apart for more than a few days, and now they were going to be separated for the first time. Still, it was nice to see that even through Lady Stark's best efforts, both Robb and Jon would always be brothers.

Robb stepped back to stand next to Maliya, his eyes sad though he adopted a demeanor worthy of a Lord. Jon swung up onto his horse and looked down at them both. "I hope you two continue to be happy together," he told them, his smile fond. "Write me when Bran wakes."

"We will," Robb promised, slipping his arm around Maliya's waist.

"Bye Jon," Maliya murmured. "Ride safe."

He gave them both one last smile before turning his horse and trotting off to go find his uncle. Maliya watched him go, unable to help feeling a strong dislike for Lady Stark in that moment, even though she was in so much pain. If she had been accepting towards Jon, an innocent child in the situation, maybe he wouldn't feel like he needed to leave in order to be happy.

Suppressing a sigh and struggling not to acknowledge the sharp ache in her heart, Maliya briefly leaned her head against Robb's chest. "I'm going to miss him," she admitted in a soft voice.

"As will I," Robb proclaimed in a thick voice before clearing his throat. "Come on," he told her, taking her hand. "Unfortunately, we have a few more goodbyes to make."

With her other hand she pulled her new cloak tighter around her body and walked with him through the chaos of people hurrying around, packing last minute items as the King's men prepared to leave Winterfell. They headed toward where Sansa and Arya were waiting with Septa Mordane, who was ordering some poor man to lift their heavy trunks onto the wagon.

"Lady Maliya," Sansa greeted her with an excited smile. Maliya smiled back, glad at least that she had managed to break Sansa's habit of curtseying before her. She couldn't break the younger girl's formalities, though she had tried for the past four months to get her to just call her Maliya.

"Hello, sisters," Maliya smiled, causing Sansa's grin to widen. Arya looked as sullen as ever. "Although it pains us to do so, we've come to say goodbye."

"Don't be sad, Maliya," Sansa crooned, pulling her into a tight hug. "We'll see each other again shortly! You guys will travel to King's Landing, of course, when Prince Joffrey and I marry." Sansa's blue eyes were dancing with elation when she pulled away. She was practically vibrating with happiness. "And maybe Joff and I will come visit when you two have your first baby!"

She felt Robb shift uncomfortably next to her, but Maliya chose to ignore that statement, focusing instead on the mention of Prince Joffrey Baratheon, the cruel, spoiled child who was set to inherit the throne. She had heard terrible rumors about how awful he really was, but she had accidently witnessed it first hand just this morning. She had almost walked in on a conversation or beratement rather, of Lord Tyrion and Joffrey. Lord Tyrion had been trying to get his nephew to pay his respects to Lord and Lady Stark, and Joffrey had interrupted, saying how didn't care for Bran and how he meant nothing to him. Lord Tryion had slapped him three times for his insolence and Joffrey had run off to find his mother with tears in his eyes.

It made her respect for Lord Tyrion grow, as well as her dislike for Joffrey. Sansa deserved so much better than him, but she was blinded by the fantasy of marrying a Prince.

"Be careful, Sansa," Maliya warned in a light voice, trying not to frighten her. "You don't want to give your heart away too freely." Sansa face crumpled into a confused frown, but before she could question or argue further, Septa Mordane called her over. She had heard a horn being blown by the gates of Winterfell, and the sounds of dozens of men mounting their horses.

"What's wrong Arya?" Robb asked, bending down to her level.

"I know why _she's_ coming," Arya muttered, throwing a dark look in Setpa Mordane's direction. "Father is going to be too busy being the Hand of the King, and _she's_ going to have to watch us. Sansa's marrying the stupid prince but the only reason I'm going is because they want to turn me into a stupid lady."

"Maybe," Maliya conceded, knowing that she was probably right. "You could think about it more like an adventure though – "

Arya crossed her arms and looked away, blinking rapidly and trying to hide the tears in her eyes. "I don't want an adventure. I don't want to go."

Robb rocked back on his heels as Arya threw herself into his arms, burying her head in his shoulder. He looked up at Maliya with miserable blue eyes, but she couldn't do anything but shrug helplessly. She didn't think there was anything that she or Robb could say to make Arya feel better. Lord Stark had made his decision – Arya was going with them to King's Landing.

"Bran will wake up soon," Robb told Arya, rubbing her back soothingly. "Everything will go back to normal and then maybe we can plan a visit to see you all in King's Landing."

Arya pulled back, sniffling. "Promise?" She whispered, looking down at him.

Robb's smile was strong, his expression confident as he lightly tapped Arya's nose with her finger. "Promise," he answered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before straightening.

"Where's mother?" They looked around as Rickon approached them, his little face confused. "Isn't she going to come say goodbye?"

"We already said our goodbyes to mother," Sansa told him, coming over to pull him into a brief hug. "We'll see you soon, Rickon."

"Bye, Rick," Arya told him, also giving him a hug.

"You girls just about ready to go?" Lord Stark asked, coming over with his horse, smiling. "The Queen and her children are getting in the wheelhouse now, so we'll be leaving any moment." The girls nodded, hugging everyone one last time before getting in their own wagon. Lord Stark turned to the three of them, pulling Rickon into a rough hug and ruffling his hair. "I need you to be strong, Rickon," he told his youngest son, who looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes. "Look after Bran and your mother."

"I will, Father," Rickon promised solemnly.

Lord Stark grinned at him, ruffling his hair one more time before turning to Maliya, lifting his hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Farewell, My Lady."

"Goodbe, Lord Stark." She looked up at him, knowing that he was literally going to be walking into the lion's den with her biggest kept secret. She was putting her trust in him completely, and she felt slightly relieved when he gave her the smallest of nods in return, accepting that trust and letting her know that he wouldn't let her down.

"Robb," Lord Stark began, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "I'm trusting you to look after things here. You're the Lord of Winterfell while I'm gone." Robb nodded, standing a little taller, his shoulders straightening with the weight of that responsibility. "I have faith in you, son. I know you can do this."

"Thanks father," Robb answered. "I won't let you down."

"I know you won't," Lord Stark smiled, pulling him into a tight hug and clapping him on the back. "Keep an eye on your mother, Robb, and send word when Bran wakes."

He bid them all one last farewell before climbing onto his horse and leading the way out of Winterfell, following the long line of the King's men. Robb and Maliya waved as the wagon passed by them. They both stood there, silent, even after Rickon ran off and the last of the soldiers exited through the gates. She could already feel the absence of Lord Stark, Sansa and Arya; it was eerily quiet now. Maliya looked up at Robb and saw that his eyes were on the now closed gates, his jaw clenched.

She placed a hand on his arm. "Robb – "

His blue eyes were steely as he looked down at her. "I'm fine, Princess. I'm the Lord of Winterfell now, and with my mother…. In her current state, you're the acting Lady of Winterfell. We have no other choice."

* * *

Things at Winterfell had fallen into a strange routine now that the castle was so empty. Things were quieter with the King's men gone, it was true, but Maliya found herself missing the daily bickering between Arya and Sansa, the quiet humor in Jon's eyes or the exasperated voice of Lord Stark when he had to once again break them apart.

Bran still hadn't woken since his fall, and Lady Stark still never left his room. She sat over him day and night, and Maliya wasn't sure that she ever slept. Poor Rickon was terribly confused and Robb often told her that he would just follow him around, crying. Maliya tried to keep him company during the day, but some days Rickon just wanted his mother and didn't want to see Maliya at all.

Robb, on the other hand, was often up early in the morning and late to come to bed as he learned first hand what it meant to be the Lord of Winterfell. To no one's surprise, the royal visit from the King and his court had cost Winterfell an exhorbitant amount of money, and it fell on Robb's shoulders to deal with the after effects.

Maliya sighed as she brushed her hair out, moving to stand closer to the fire, trying to keep the cold at bay. She didn't know if she would ever admit this out loud, but truth be told, she missed her husband. She knew he was still here, of course, but she only saw him for a few minutes every day. The bed was always cold when she woke up – she even missed the warmth she felt when she lay next to him under the furs.

What would Arianne do in this situation? She snorted before she had even finished the thought. Arianne would think of some…. Creative ways to get his mind off the stress and to show him that she was there for him. Supporting him. Even though Maliya respected and liked her husband as a person, she was not ready for that step.

Hell, they hadn't even talked about or mentioned their almost kiss from the day that Bran fell. Maliya wrinkled her nose. Should they even talk about it?

Maliya froze with her brush still in her hair, tilting her head to the side with a frown. A strange noise, what sounded like something heavy falling to the floor, came from down the hallway. As Maliya continued to listen, a pained scream made her drop the brush to the floor even as she was picking up her skirts and running out of her bedchambers.

Her speed picked up as she saw Bran's wolf enter a room at the other end of corridor, a terrible snarl echoing to her along with a wet, ripping, gurgling noise. Panting, eyes wide, Maliya skidded to a halt at the doorway to Bran's bedchambers her brown eyes flickering around the room and struggling to comprehend what she was seeing.

Her eyes first fell on a hooded man lying on the floor, his throat ripped open, blood pooling around his body. As she watched Bran's wolf lightly leapt onto the bed, his muzzle stained red as he settled against Bran's side with a grumble. Finally, her eyes fell on Lady Stark who was on her knees, her face pale, her hands dripping with blood, which were cradled against her chest.

"Oh, My Lady," Maliya gasped, when she saw that her hands were torn open, slashed across the palms, the blood dripping freely from the cuts. She hurried over to Lady Stark, dropping to her knees and frantically looking around the room. Making a frustrated noise in the back of her throat, Maliya took the bottom of her dress and pulled, ripping off the fabric to tie around her hands, attempting to staunch the bleeding. "Help!" Maliya called over her shoulder, yelling as loud as she could. "We need some help in here!"

"There's a fire," Lady Stark told her in an emotionless voice, her blue eyes still wide with shock. "In the stables. Everybody went there to help. He said that I shouldn't be here."

Maliya's gaze drifted to the man lying on the floor. "What happened, My Lady?"

"He wanted to kill Bran, he said that he was dead anyway. He said that I shouldn't be here," Lady Stark repeated, sprurring Maliya into action. She really didn't like the look of Lady Stark's hands or her current emotional state.

"Hello?" Maliya screamed, turning her face towards the door as she yelled. "Can we get some help in here please?" A maid came running in, stumbling to a stop in the doorway, a loud, horrified gasp escaping her when she took in the scene. "Don't just stand there!" Maliya snapped impatiently. "Find Robb – find Lord Stark and Maester Luwin! Bring them here as quickly as you can! Go!"

The frightened maid took off again and Maliya crouched back down next to Lady Stark. "It's alright, My Lady. Robb will be here soon and everything will be okay."

Lady Stark didn't answer, just sat there hunched against the side of the bed, her broken hands cradled against her chest as she stared at the dead man on the floor. Maliya didn't know what to do. She stepped up to the window where she could see the people of Winterfell frantically trying to put out the fire in the stables. She drifted over to Bran's bedside, checking to make sure he was alright. His wolf looked up at her as she approached, but he only gave her outstretched hand a lick. "Thank you," Maliya murmured, petting the wolf's head. "Thank you for saving his life."

Loud footsteps approached and Robb burst into the room followed by several guards. His face slackened with shock and disbelief as he looked around. "Mother…"

He staggered forward a few steps before stopping, his gaze drifting up to Maliya's in horror. "Robb," she whispered, moving to his side. "That man, he – he tried to kill Bran but your mother was here and she stopped him. Bran's wolf came in and…" she trailed off, gesturing to the man's body.

Robb's face hardened as he turned to the guards. "I want two men posted outside of Bran's room day and night, no exceptions! You three, get this body out of here. Put it in my father's office, I want to search it later. Maester Luwin, finally!" Robb sighed with relief as the older man finally entered the room. "It's my mother, she's been attacked."

Maester Luwin hurried over to the shell-shocked woman and examined her hands, his frown deepening as he undressed Maliya's cloths and saw the wounds. "These go deep," he told Robb, looking up at him. "Almost to the bone. We'll need to get her washed up before I can dress the wounds."

Robb gave some more orders and two maids entered the room, wrapping Lady Stark in blankets and helping her to her feet. Robb watched Maester Luwin carefully lead his mother out of the room, a lost expression on his face. "Gods," he muttered, rubbing an exhausted hand over his face. "How did this happen? Why would anyone want to kill an innocent, helpless boy?"

They got their answer four days later.

Maliya was sitting by Bran's bedside, a position she had taken up ever since Lady Stark had been attacked. She often had breakfast and tried to talk to Bran, hoping that her words would make his eyes open, but it never work. Still, she talked. It made her feel better, somehow, to chatter nonsensical things to him. She told him about his mother's recovery, about how Robb was handling running Winterfell and how Rickon was pushing them all away.

Standing, Maliya gathered her breakfast tray and turned to leave, freezing when she realized someone was standing in the doorway. "Lady Stark," she breathed, eyes widening at the sight of the older woman, who had been asleep for the past four days straight. "I'm sorry, I just – " She gestured helplessly to Bran before changing the subject. "Are you alright?"

Lady Stark's blue eyes lingered on her son a moment longer before landing on Maliya. With that simple look, Maliya knew the older woman was back to her old self. Her eyes were still clouded with grief, but she no longer looked as tense as a bowstring and the sanity seemed to have returned to her. "Find Robb and meet me in the godswood."

Maliya squinted at her in confusion. "Eh, what – " But she was already gone.

Completely bewildered, Maliya stood there for a moment before placing the breakfast tray back down on the table and heading down the corridor. She stopped in her bedchambers to pick up her and Robb's cloak before heading down to the Great Hall where she hoped he was still eating.

Sighing with relief when she spotted him talking with one of his guards, she tried to inconspicuously slip through the tables, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Coming up behind him, she placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "I need you to come with me." She saw him turn his head toward her, an automatic, confused frown crossing his face. "Smile," she murmured hurriedly, kissing him on the cheek and pretending she didn't notice him stiffen. "People are watching."

Robb easily put a smile on his face before excusing himself from the man he was talking to, and standing to follow her out of the Great Hall. Maliya picked up her speed as she led the way out of the castle, forching Robb to jog a little to keep up. "Princess? What's so urgent? If I didn't know any better, I would have throught you were trying to seduce me – "

"Seduce you?" Maliya cut him off with a distracted frown. "I wasn't trying to – "

"Your hands on my body," he teased in a light voice, blue eyes twinkling. "Whispering in my ear, your lips – "

"Alright," Maliya interrupted once more, eyebrows raised, a smirk crossing her face as she glanced up at him. "I wasn't trying to seduce you. Believe me, if I had been trying to seduce you, you would know it." Robb looked intrigued by the prospect, but she knew they needed to focus on the task at hand. "Listen… your mother's awake."

Robb gaped at her in shock. "Since when?" He demanded, eyes narrowing. "Is she alright? Where is she – as a matter of fact, where are we going?"

"The godswood," Maliya answered, still hurrying along. "All she said was to find you and meet her there. It was all very mysterious, but in that brief interaction she seemed…. better. More in control of herself."

Robb probably would have pressed her with more questions, but they had already entered the godswod by the point, their eyes falling on Lady Stark accompanied by Ser Rodrik, Maester Luwin and Theon Greyjoy of all people. "Mother?" Robb asked as they strode forward to join the circle, his eyes flickering between everyone gathered. "What is this? What's going on?"

"What I'm about to tell you must remain between us," Lady Stark began, her voice strong as she made eye contact with each person. She took a deep, preparatory breath. "I don't believe that Bran fell from that tower. I think he was thrown."

Maliya was surprised to find that this new piece of information didn't shock her as much as it did the others. Theon looked confused, but both Robb and Ser Rodrik stiffened, their eyes widening incredulously.

"The boy was always surefooted before," Maester Luwin added, the only one who looked unphased. He had obviously already spoken about this with Lady Stark.

"Someone has tried to kill him… twice. But why?" She asked in a frustrated voice. "Why try to murder an innocent boy? Unless…. unless he saw something he wasn't meant to see."

"But what, My Lady?" Theon asked, his face still crumpled in a confused frown.

"I don't know," she admitted, the frustration leaking through once more. "But I would stake my life the Lannisters are involved. We already have reason to doubt their loyalty to the crown. Jaime Lannister did not join the hunt the day that Bran fell. He remained here in the castle."

"My Lady that is a monstrous suggestion," Ser Rodrik spoke in the silence that followed, still shocked. "Even the Kingslayer would flinch at murdering a child."

"Would he?" Maliya mused, tilting her head to the side. "Think of who his father is. My uncle has been telling me for years that Tywin Lannister ordered the deaths of my Aunt Elia and her children. They were innocent as well!"

He nodded slowly, accepting her statement. "Did you notice the dagger the killer used?" Ser Rodrik asked, pulling the weapon out of his jacket. "It's too fine a weapon for such a man. The blade is Valyrian steel, the handle dragonbone."

"So someone must have given it to him," Maliya concluded, crossing her arms. "Have we learned anything more about him?"

"No one knows his name," Ser Rodrik told them. "He was no man of Winterfell, My Lady, but some say they've seen him here and about the castle the past few weeks. With all the strangers hanging around there's no way of saying who he belonged to."

"He'd been hiding in the stables," Theon added. "You could smell it on him. He must have seen the distraction the fire in the library tower caused and set his own. Luckily the stables were mostly empty after the King left, and none of the horses were injured. He was just trying to draw everyone away from the castle."

"They come into my home," Robb began, his icy blue eyes thunderous with barely contained rage. "And try to murder my brother. If it's war they want – "

Theon jumped in eagerly, puffing his chest out. "If it comes to that, you know I'll stand behind you –

It seemed to Maliya that Maester Luwin had to struggle not to roll his eyes. "Is there going to be a battle in the godswood?" He asked in the most sarcastic voice she had ever heard him use. "Hm? Too easily words of war become acts of war. We don't know the truth yet. Lord Stark must be told of this."

Maliya found herself half listening to the words that came next. Her heart was pounding rapidly in her chest. The Lannisters were involved with several conspiracy theories and now suddenly there was talk of war. Her mind was torn. On the one hand she wanted revenge on the Lannisters more than anything else. But on the other hand did she really want war? It would be an opportunity for her to directly oppose them, true, but there was always so much death involved in war. Was it worth it?

"I don't trust a raven to carry these words," Lady Stark was saying, shaking her head immediately.

"I'll ride to King's Landing," Robb offered. Maliya snapped her head around to look at him, her stomach flopping unpleasantly at the thought as she automatically opened her mouth to say no. Lady Stark beat her to it.

"No. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. I will go myself," she told them, straightening her shoulder.

"Mother you can't – "

"I _must_."

"I'll send a host of guards to protect you," Ser Rodrik offered, but once again she was shaking her head.

"Too large a party attracts unwanted attention. I don't want the Lannisters to know I'm coming."

"Let me accompany you, at least. The road can be a dangerous place for a woman alone."

Robb looked completely lost and confused at the thought that his mother would now be leaving them as well. "But what about Bran?"

"I have prayed to the seven for more than a month," Lady Stark told him gently, looking sad once more. "Bran's life is in their hands now."

Maliya knew that Robb wasn't happy with her decision to leave, that he didn't want her to go, but he also couldn't directly oppose her without sounding like a young boy.

She was gone three days later.

* * *

 **Ned's POV**

 _Six million dragons in debt._ Ned Stark slowly left the small council chambers, his mind having a hard time grasping such a large amount of money. _And now Robert wants to spend more money on some ridiculous tournament to celebrate my arrival? I won't let this rest on my head!_ He was going to have a very stern, honest talk with the King.

Later, though. Right now he was tired, sore, hungry and irritable and all he wanted was a nice bath, a hot meal and a soft bed. The whole situation with the Prince and Nymeria, Lady and the butcher's boy had exhausted them all. Sansa and Arya were understandably distraught and were at each other's throats more often than usual. The incident also caused more friction with the Lannister's as well – it was why they had arrived so much faster than the royal family.

"Lord Stark!" Closing his eyes in annoyance and gritting his teeth, Ned regretfully stopped walking and turned around.

"Lord Varys," Ned greeted in an even voice, too irritated and tired to even attempt to smile.

The other man was smiling though, his hands laced in front of him. "I can imagine how weary you must be after your long journey, My Lord, I promise I won't keep you long." _Thank both the old gods and the new for that small mercy at least._ "I'm told congratulations are in order." Ned blinked at him in confusion, causing Lord Varys' smile to widen. "I hear your eldest married Princess Maliya of Dorne."

"Oh, yes," Ned nodded distractidely. "Yes, they got married a few months ago."

"And how is she settling into her new life at Winterfell?" Lord Varys asked pleasantly. "We were all so worried about the Princess when she had that terrible sickness as an infant – we were relieved finally recovered."

Interest peaked, Ned peered at Lord Varys in speculation. How many people knew about Maliya's "sickness" as a child? Varys was in King's Landing during Robert's Rebellion… there was someone who had helped Rhaenys escape… was that person Varys? Ned shook his head, inwardly snorting. Varys was almost impossible to read – he almost always had a disarming smile on his face, but with his network of spiders and the amount of secrets he must know, nobody could ever tell whom he really served.

"Maliya is settling in just fine," Ned answered finally, a small smile crossing his face at the thought of the young woman who had married his son. "She's a strong, courageous woman and I believe that she'll be very good for Robb."

Varys' smile widened, his head tilting to the side. "That is good to hear, My Lord. I was happy to read some good news in these very trying times."

Ned nodded again, eyebrows furrowed. "Right. Well I'm going to go check on my girls, make sure they're unpacking and not fighting each other."

"Of course." Lord Varys paused for a moment. "For what it's worth, Lord Stark, I'm glad you're here, even if you aren't. The capital needs a man like you." Ned inclined his head and gave Lord Varys a thin-lipped smile before turning on his heel and heading down the corridor.

Varys watched him go, working quickly to hide the sudden gleam of interest in his eye or the wide grin that wanted to cross his face. Once Lord Stark was out of sight, Varys turned on his heel and headed to his own bedchambers. There was a strange feeling of excitement running through him – things were changing within Westeros and he wanted to make sure all the pieces were in place. He took out a piece of paper and a quill and got to work. His spiders had a very important message to deliver.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

"You're up early," Robb commented in her ear as he moved past to sit next to her on the bench. Maliya hurriedly picked up her cup and took a drink to hide her shiver as his hand slid across her back.

"I had difficulty sleeping," Maliya answered, watching him pile his plate with bacon. She put down her cup and took a deep breath before turning to face him, a flutter of nerves spiraling through her stomach, her heart beating a quick rhythym. "So I was thinking of riding out to explore the Winter Town today. Would…. Would you be interested in joining me?"

Robb froze with a piece of bacon halfway to his mouth, a flash of surprise crossing his face as he lowered his hand and cleared his throat. "Yeah! Yeah, I would, except…" he trailed off, a regretful grimace crossing his face. He briefly closed his eyes with a sigh. "Maester Luwin has my whole day already planned – "

"It's alright!" Maliya interjected quickly, plastering a smile to her face, trying to hide her own disappointment.

"I'm sorry, Princess," Robb told her sincerely, his blue eyes looking guilty. "I know I've been really busy lately and that we haven't spent a lot of time together since – "

"Stop it, Robb," Maliya interrupted softly, placing a hand on his arm. "I know how hard you've been working as the new Lord of Winterfell. Your mother and father would be really proud of you."

His grateful smile was breathtaking and made her heart pound all over again. "Thank you, Maliya," he murmured, placing a hand over her own. "I appreciate that, I really do. But you're also my new wife and we've been trying to get to know one another, which I've been enjoying more than I thought I would." His thumb rubbing against the back of her hand was entirely too distracting. "I'm going to do my best to set aside time each day for you, and for Bran and Rickon."

Maliya shook her head, not wanting to get in the way of his duties. "You don't have to – "

"Of course I do," Robb chuckled, easily brushing her words aside. "You're my family."

The words were simply and honestly said, as if it were a fact of life, and it caused a small bubble of hope to swell inside her chest. Shocking both of them, Maliya leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His blue eyes widened and Maliya looked away, her face flushing red as she pulled her hand back.

Her eyes flicked around the room, landing on little Rickon who was sitting alone at one of the empty tables, his head on his hands as he picked at his food, Shaggydog lying at his feet. Sorrow trickled through her at the lonely, unhappy boy that he had become and in that moment the notion came to her. "Do you mind if I take Rickon with me?"

Robb followed her gaze and sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No, I think that's a great idea. Truth be told, I've been worried about him. He's confused, he doesn't understand why most of his family is suddenly gone. The only brother's he has left, one is broken, lying in a month long sleep and the other is too busy to pay him any attention."

"This is not your fault, Robb," Maliya told him fiercely, brown eyes narrowed. "You're doing the best you can." She took a breath, her expression smoothing out and her voice lowering. "I can't help you be the Lord of Winterfell. At least in this way, I can take some of the burden that's been placed on your shoulders."

"Thank you," Robb whispered, his blue eyes unreadable. Smiling at him, Maliya pushed back her chair and stood.

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

Robb marveled at how just a few short months had completely changed his opinion about his wife. He couldn't imagine going through all this – his sisters and father stuck south in the lion's den, his mother traveling to meet them with words of treason, his one brother voluntarily leaving to go to the Wall, and his other two unconscious and bedridden, the other young and frightened – without her. Although he had been extremely busy, to the point where at night he just face plants on his bed with exhaustion, he had taken notice of the little things that Maliya has been doing to help out. She had become the voice of reason, someone he could lean on and one that offered unwavering support.

Not only had she taken over his mother's duties over running the household staff, but she had also taken to looking after Bran. He had watched her one morning, unnoticed, while sitting at his bedside, holding his hand and chatting to him like he was awake and well. A feeling had filled him at that moment, a warm, tender feeling just like when he caught her telling the story about Nymeria to his siblings. A feeling that filled him once more as he watched her crouch by Rickon's side, ruffling his hair playfully and whispering something to him that made him smile.

His hand came up to lightly touch the cheek that could still feel the warmth of her lips. He was struck by a sudden realization, one that had snuck up on him and blindsided him completely.

He respected, appreciated, was attracted to and _liked_ his wife. As more than the friend that she had become and a companion in this new situation he found himself in.

And it changed everything.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

"Alright, little man, up you come." Maliya looked down at him from where she was sitting atop of a saddled Shadow. She gestured to the two guards that Robb had sent to accompany them to help Rickon up in front of her, but Rickon stopped them, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"I'm not little, Maliya, I'm going to be six soon!" Maliya held up her hands in defense, grinning at him as he looked for a way to climb up. She waited patiently until he gave up with a sigh, looking sheepish. "I need help." Biting her lip to stop her grin from widening, she signaled to one of the guards again, who lifted Rickon into the space in front of her. "Why are we taking your horse?" Rickon asked after he was settled, his momentary embarrassment already forgotten. "The Winter Town is just outside the gates, we could just walk there you know."

Maliya reached around him to grab Shadow's reins as the guards mounted their own horses and she pressed her heels together, turning him around to face the gates. "We are going to the Winter town… eventually. But I've been telling you all about how fast Shadow is, so I figured I'd take the time to actually show you."

"Really?" Rickon asked excitedly, twisting his body around to face her, his eyes lit up.

"Really," Maliya confirmed as they exited the gates, Shaggydog bounding into the open field in front of them enthusiastically. "Hold on tight, Rick – here we go!"

Maliya nudged Shadow forward into a trot, and once she was sure that Rickon had a tight grip pushed him even further into a canter. The sounds of the guards horses behind them faded away, as Shadow's smooth, even stride lengthened beneath them. Leaning forward slightly, she held the reins with one hand while she wrapped her other around Rickon's body, securing him to her slightly and ensuring that he didn't fall.

She heard him laugh excitedly as the wind whipped through their hair. "Faster, Maliya, faster!" He shouted loudly, his hands holding the pommel of the saddle as he glanced to their right. "Come on, Shaggydog!" He laughed again as the black wolf easily kept pace with them, looking just as pleased to be out of the walls of Winterfell as Rickon.

Maliya's grin was so wide that her cheeks hurt, her heart pounding as the adrenaline pumped through her body. As it always did when she rode Shadow or fought with her sword, her worries slipped away for a couple of seconds and she just enjoyed the feel of her horses' strength and speed beneath her and the cold wind whipping through her hair and stealing her breath.

Maliya didn't open Shadow up to his full gallop for fear of Rickon's safety, but the boy didn't seem to notice or care. She was just happy to see that heartwarming smile on his face once more.

"Can we go again?" Rickon asked after one of the guards had helped him down from the saddle. He was talking rapidly, practically bouncing up and down with exhilaration. "I mean not right now, of course, cause were at the Winter Town, but soon! Maybe tomorrow? Shadow is _so fast_ , I've never been on a horse that could run like that!"

"Of course we can do that again," Maliya chuckled, hopping down off Shadow and putting an arm around his shoulder. "I promise you kid, that was just as much fun for me as it was for you. But for right now, you have to give me a tour of this town!"

Maliya handed Shadow's reins off to the guard who was going to stay behind with the horses as Rickon grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, the other guard tailing them silently. Maliya looked around at all the small and neat houses built out of log and stone, eyes widening at how many people there were milling around the streets of the market square. "There's a lot of people here," Maliya commented in surprise.

"Father says that more people come in the winter," Rickon piped up. "They sell tools and clothes and other boring things, but Theon says that the pie here is the best! Can we get some pie, Maliya?"

Maliya's eyes widened in an exaggerated expression of excitement. "Are you serious? If you don't lead me to the pie right now, I might lose my mind!" She joked, grinning.

Rickon giggled, walking faster now as he rolled his eyes at her over his shoulder. "You're weird, Maliya. But as long as I get some pie, I like it!" Minutes later they were happily munching on a slice of pie, strolling through the town and looking into the different wooden stalls. Maliya took a basket and they went shopping, buying a few odds and ends. "Maliya?" Rickon stopped walking after he had finished his pie and looked back up at her with a child-like, innocent expression. "Thanks for the pie. And the ride on Shadow. I had fun, even if it was only for a little while."

He looked down, playing with the sleeve of his shirt, his smile fading and that lost look coming back into his eyes. Heart aching for him, Maliya knelt down in front of him, using her thumb to wipe the jam off the corners of his mouth. Keeping her expression upbeat and a pleasant smile on her face, Maliya lightly tapped him on the nose, causing his lips to twitch. "If you are ever feeling lost, or scared, or upset you come see me, Rickon Stark. I know Robb is busy a lot, but until Bran wakes up I will be here for you. How does that sound?"

Rickon threw his arms around her, hugging her tightly around the neck. Blinking in surprise, Maliya hesitantly brought her arms up to hug him back. "I love you, Maliya," Rickon murmured in a small voice.

"I – " Maliya stammered, her throat burning as she blinked rapidly. "I love you too, Rick."

He sniffled in her ear. "Can I have more pie?"

Laughing, Maliya pulled away and stood. "You know, if you have too much pie that's what you're going to turn into."

"That's not possible," Rickon told her pointedly, raising his eyebrows.

"Well you're just too smart for your own good," Maliya grumbled distractedly, something silver having just caught her eye. She wandered over to one of the nearby stalls and touched a silver direwolf head, the Stark sigil. "Rickon, when is Robb's nameday?"

"Not for another two months. Why?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

"No reason, I just need to – hey!" Maliya exclaimed in dismay as a small boy knocked into her basket and almost sent it crashing to the floor. She caught a glimpse of a messy head of black hair before it disappeared into the crowd.

"Watch where you're going!" Rickon called after him, eyes narrowed. "Are you alright, Maliya?"

"Yeah," Maliya answered after a moment, her eyes scanning the crowded square and not seeing him everywhere. "So!" She smiled, glancing back down at Rickon, the boy already forgotten. "Where to next?"

Maliya brought her purchases up to her bedchambers after they had returned to the castle and placed them upon her bed, eager to go through them. She was unpacking everything, including a great pair of fur gloves that she was dying to wear, when she found the small, rolled parchment of paper. She slowly reached for it and frowned when she turned it over and realized that there was no defining seal on it.

More than a little curious, wondering how in the seven hells it ended up in her basket, Maliya unrolled the paper, her eyes widening and her jaw dropping when she realized that the letter was written in _High Valyrian_.

She actually looked around the bedchambers in shock, as if expecting there to be someone else in the room watching her, as if she needed to hide it. She had chosen to learn the language of her ancestors at around her tenth nameday, something that her father and uncle had chosen to support, but there weren't many people who knew that fact. So how was it that a letter written in a language that nobody learned or spoke anymore ended up among her things? Slowly sitting back on the bed, her heart pounding in both excitement and anticipation, she began to read.

 _Greetings,_

 _I write to congratulate you on your marriage to the Young Wolf - such a union has never been attempted since a pact made of ice and fire back in the day. You'll be pleased to hear that your aunt and uncle across the sea are faring well and have developed a new interest in horses._

 _Don't be discouraged by the bitter cold of the north. Dragons have been known to survive the ice and the snow and you can do the same. If you're ever feeling lost, trust in your instincts to guide you._

 _I'm sure I will be in contact again soon._

 _Your loyal friend and supporter_

Maliya sat there, reading and rereading the letter over and over again, slowly realizing that the letter that had accidently ended up in her basket had been meant for her after all. They knew about her marriage to the Young Wolf, which was apparently Robb's nickname. And they mentioned dragons, which she didn't think was a coincidence. But who in the seven hells was her 'aunt and uncle across the sea?' Did her father and uncle know who they were? And if so, why didn't they tell her?

But it was the line about a pact of ice and fire that really made her pause. It was a line that she thought she had heard somewhere, and she closed her ees, desperately trying to wrack her brain and remember when it suddenly came to her. It was the night of the library tower fire - her eyes flew open – from one of the books she had grabbed and hid in Lord Stark's office!

Stuffing the letter in her cloak pocket, she leapt up from the bed and dashed through the empty corridors, grateful that at this moment Robb was meeting with some of the townsfolk in the Great Hall to attempt to solve some of their complaints and grievances. It meant that the office was currently empty.

It took her a while to find the forgotten books and she gave a triumphant shout when she finally found the one she was looking for. Sitting on the floor, she hesitated only momentarily before hurriedly flicking through the pages, her eyes scanning the words, her hands shaking.

When she read through the part about The Pact of Ice and Fire, which turned out to be a real historical event, she felt faint, resting her head back against the bookshelf. Once again, her whole world was spinning on its head and she didn't know how to handle it.

The Pact of Ice and Fire turned out to be an alliance between House Stark and House Targaryen during the reign of Queen Rhaenyra. Her son, Prince Jacaerys flew North on his dragon Vermax to form a treaty with Lord Cregan Stark, and apparently part of the treaty involved a Targaryen Princess marrying into the Stark family. While at the time there was no Princess in line, Maliya herself had unknowingly fulfilled the pact.

Which no one else would have known, except… except for someone that knew her real identity. Stunned, horrifed and scared, Maliya realized that she had been wrong before – apparently there were _six_ people in Westeros who knew who she was.

* * *

 **Author's Note: What did you think? Any predictions for the next chapter?**

 **Coming up: A letter from family, Bran wakes up, and two scenes that you guys won't want to miss**

Guest 1 – I agree that Ned wouldn't be subdued all that easily, but I just couldn't picture him fighting back against his scared daughter in law lol. As you probably read, your guesses are spot on! Thanks for reviewing :)

Guest 2 – Thanks for your review! Not quite yet, unfortunately!

Boramir – Loved reading your thoughts and predictions, most of them were correct! I'm so glad you enjoyed the last chapter and I hope you liked this one just as much!

Guest 3 – Thanks for reviewing! I'm sorry about the cliffhanger, but they're just too much fun to write : )

Guest 4 – Sorry, don't hate me! I think we can agree that at the moment Maliya is not really thinking too well, but I think she understands what would happen if she killed Lord Stark!

Anna.B – Wow, that was a great review! I'm glad you like Maliya's story so far! I think she was taken by surprise by how much she's come to care for the Starks, but I also believe that she's beginning to stop fighting herself on it. As for the rest of it, Maliya is going to have quite a different storyline than Dany. I don't want my addition of Maliya to mean that she gets everything that Dany is supposed to have, she's going to forge her own path and receive her own followers. But I appreciated reading all your thoughts and I hope you liked this chapter just as much!

Marvelmyra – Thanks for your review! I seriously debated having Ned tell her about Jon's parentage but it didn't feel right to me. He has protected and guarded that secret for sixteen years now, it just seemed odd that he would spill the beans to a Targaryen that he's only known for a few months. She had just kept a secret from him as well, so he's not sure that he can trust her with the information. All will be reveal in due time!


	9. Destiny

**Author's Note: I'm super excited for you guys to read this chapter! Most of it is completely original and I would love to hear what you think of it. Thank you to everyone who favorited and followed my story, but especially to those of you who took the time to review :)**

 **Special thanks to Dannylionthe1st and Maddie Rose!**

 **See the Author's Note at the end of the chapter for a few statements and questions! Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 9: Destiny

Glancing over her shoulder to make sure that no one was following her, Maliya clutched the books from the library tower to her chest as she hurried back to her bedchambers. When she opened the door, she was relieved to see that Robb still wasn't back yet. Feeling that same mixture of curiosity, excitement and fear, she let the books topple onto their small table before grabbing some candles and lighting them.

Taking a deep, calming breath she sat down and began to reach for one of the books detailing the Targaryen history. The flicker of the candle flame caught the corner of her eye, capturing her attention. A flash of the library tower flames formed in her mind's eye, and her heart began pounding for a completely different reason. Almost without realizing what she was doing, Maliya stretched her hand forward, hesitated for a half a second, then let her fingers drift into the flame.

It took a while, but several heartbeats later and Maliya hissed in pain, yanking her hand back and sticking her fingers in her mouth. Alright, so obviously she wasn't fire-proof. So why in the seven hells did she escape unscathed from the library tower?

Shaking the matter from her mind, knowing she may never find the answer, she pulled the book towards her instead, focusing on a problem she could solve. She skimmed through the beginning and the middle of the book, flipping through the pages until she found dates and names that were familiar to her.

257 AC - _King Jaehaerys Targaryen II commands the marriage between his son, Prince Aerys II_ _and his sister, Princess Rhaella._

Maliya wrinkled her nose when she read that her grandfather had to marry his own sister. She was glad that she didn't have to continue that tradition at least. Her heart gave a painful pang, sorrow cloaking her like a blanket at the next name that popped out at her.

 _Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, son of King Aerys and Queen Rhaella Targaryen. Silver-white hair and purple eyes. On the day that he is born, Summerhall burns to the ground and King Aegon V Targaryen and his eldest son, Prince Duncan Targaryen are killed._

She never knew that her father was born of blood and fire. There was so much that she wanted to know about him… and so much that she was afraid to find out. Not that she ever would now.

Her grandfather, King Aerys, was crowned in 262 AC, but what Maliya read next made her frown. After her father was born, Queen Rhaella suffered three miscarriages, two stillborn births and three babies who only lived a few months to a year over the next seventeen years. Maliya didn't yet understand what it was like to be a mother, but she didn't believe that anyone should go through losing eight babies.

Shaking off the emotional pain that Queen Rhaella must have gone through, she continued to read.

 _Prince Viserys Targaryen, son of King Aerys and Queen Rhaella –_ Maliya's eyes froze on the name, dumbstruck, feeling like she had just been hit in the head with something heavy. Her father had a younger brother. And she had an _uncle._ He was only a few years older than her, which was strange, but the mysterious letter writer was correct, it seems. The letter also mentioned…

Maliya's eyes skipped ahead a bit for a mention of a daughter, when her own name caught her eye, which might have been even more strange to read in a book than the fact that she might still have family alive.

 _Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. Has an appearance similar to that of her mother. Black hair, brown eyes, olive skin. Killed at three years of age during Robert's Rebellion._

 _Prince Aegon Targaryen, daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. Has an appearance similar to that of his father. Silver-white hair, purple eyes and pale skin. Killed as an infant during Robert's Rebellion._

Maliya's sorrow deepened when she came across her brother's name. She had nightmares, sometimes, where she heard the wail of an infant, the sound of a man's grunt and the terrible crunch of his fragile skull hitting the wall. She had a hard time wrapping her mind around the kind of monster that would murder a helpless, innocent baby and then rape and murder it's mother with the blood and brains still on his hands. Her hands were clenched on top of the table. Gregor Clegane deserved a special, slow and painful death and she prayed that it would come soon.

It took her longer than it should have, but Maliya eventually managed to get her rage and sadness under control in order to remember what she should be looking for.

 _Princess Danaerys Tagaryen, daughter of King Aerys and Queen Rhaella. Silver-white hair and purple eyes. She is born on Dragonstone after Robert's Rebellion during a great storm. Her mother dies during childbirth._

 _During the assault on Dragonstone by Stannis Baratheon, Viserys and Danaerys were nowhere to be found. Location is believed to be somewhere in Braavos._

Mind whirling, Maliya sat back in her chair, her expression stunned. An aunt and an uncle… the letter was right after all. They may have been half a world away, but she was not the last Targaryen. Relief filled her at first, relief that she wasn't alone, but that quickly faded, replaced with worry and uncertainty. If the Targaryen madness really existed, then what if her aunt and uncle were as crazy as their father apparently was? Another voice in her head spoke up. Did it really matter? Maliya would probably never meet these people, so was it really her problem if they were mad?

After crossing the room to where she had tossed her cloak on the bed, she rummaged in the pocket for the letter and hurried back to sit at the table to read it once more by candlelight even though she had already memorized it.

… _a pact made of ice and fire…_ She had already found the answer to that riddle.

… _your aunt and uncle across the sea…_ Still surprising, but also true – if they were still alive all these years later. It was the last riddle that was confusing her.

 _Dragons have been known to survive the ice and snow…_ What dragon has had to survive in the north? Could the person who had written this letter tied two of his or her riddles together? The information that Maliya had learned from the Pact of Ice and Fire mentioned Prince Jacaerys Targaryen flying on his dragon, Vermax, to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark. Could Vermax be the dragon the writer was talking about?

With another stunned jolt, Maliya realized that Lord Tyrion had also mentioned Jacaerys and his dragon along with a rumor about a missing batch of dragon eggs. Maliya mentally hit herself, unable to believe that she didn't recognize the name sooner.

A strong surge of excitement and determination suddenly filled her, her eyes lighting up and a grin beginning to cross her face. She stood tall, walking over to the fireplace and tossing the letter inside, watching it burn and disintigrate.

Maliya wanted to find those dragon eggs. But how? Winterfell was a very large castle, and any clues as to where they might be hidden would have burned down in the library tower. They were still sorting through the wreckage to see if any of the books had survived the fire, and who knew how long that would take. Was she just supposed to start opening doors and drawers?

She sat back on the edge of the bed, staring into the flames as she wracked her brain as to figure out where to start. Nothing came to her, however, and it sent a mixture of frustration and hopelessness through her. Rubbing her hands wearily over her face, she gave it up for the night and began to get ready for bed. While she had no idea how to find those dragon eggs, she did know one thing. Whoever had written that letter had given her some incredibly useful information that was meant to help her. She was willing to admit to herself that the writer might actually be a friend instead of someone who would let the world know her secret.

She found herself hoping that he or she would write her again soon. She was going to need all the help she could get.

* * *

"Good morning, Rickon," Maliya greeted, ruffling his unruly hair as she slid into the seat next to him.

Rickon playfully smacked her hand away, looking up at her with an actual smile. "Hi, Maliya!" He replied cheerfully, picking up his water and finishing it. "Bye, Maliya!"

Maliya frowned, watching him clamber off the bench. Shaggydog, who had been lying patiently under the table at his feet, leapt up at once, watching his Master faithfully. "You're leaving already?" She asked in dismay. "Now who am I going to break my fast with?"

The boy looked around, his eyes lighting up when he saw someone approaching. "Maester Luwin!" he told her with a grin, before taking off with Shaggydog.

Shaking her head with an exasperated smile, she began to pile her plate with food, pausing to look up at Master Luwin when he stopped in front of the head table. "Maester Luwin," she smiled politely, taking a bite of bacon. "To what do I owe this pleasure? If you're looking for Robb, I'm afraid he's not awake yet."

Maester Luwin gave her a small smile. "I'm here for you actually, My Lady. Robb has been working hard, he deserves a morning to himself."

"I agree," Maliya told him, lacing her fingers under her chin. "So why have you been looking for me?"

Maester Luwin reached inside his cloak and pulled out a tightly rolled piece of parchment. "This came for you this morning. It bears the Martell seal."

Maliya's heart leaped into her throat, her eyes widening as she slowly reached out to take the letter that he offered. "I feel as if I wrote them so long ago…"

"The distance between Dorne and Winterfell is a long way to travel, even for a flying raven," Maester Luwin reminded her gently. He bowed his head slightly. "I do hope everything is well with the Martells."

Maliya watched him slowly exit the Great Hall, her eyes then flickering around the mostly empty tables before she excitedly turned her attention to the letter. It definitely bore the Martell seal. Was it from Arianne or her father? She unrolled the parchment and began to read.

 _Greetings Lady Stark,_

 _I apologize, I couldn't resist! I can't even begin to tell you how excited I am to hear from you! We all miss you so much here. Believe it or not, but not much has changed. Obara, Nym and Tyene all send their love. They still train obsessively and create chaos wherever they go. Father and Uncle Oberyn seem sadder with you gone though they're putting on a brave face. And Trystane…you wouldn't believe how much he has grown. We've been spending a lot of time together lately – I think he's been missing you as well, though he has never admitted it._

 _Tyene is looking over my shoulder as I'm writing this. She says that you should just spread your legs for your good looking husband already because you have no idea what in the seven hells you're missing._

Maliya rolled her eyes at the crude image, though her lips did tug up at the corners – it was such a Tyene thing to say that she shouldn't even be surprised.

 _I, on the other hand, know you, Maliya, probably better than you know yourself. It's not shocking to me that you might have to trust your husband before you lay with him. From what it sounds like, both of you weren't entirely pleased with this marriage to begin with. And I also know that months have probably passed since the time you wrote your letter until the time that you receive mine. So I hope that things between you and Robb have gotten better. If they haven't, then I would suggest doing whatever it takes to break down that invisible barrier._

 _If things have gotten better – and I sincerely hope that they have – then I will be glad to hear it! I've done a lot of asking around and rumor has it that your man is as good and honourable as he is handsome. Falling in love can be a scary thing, it's true, but it can also open you up something incredible, something that you didn't know you were waiting for, something that you can't live without._

 _And I know you're always rolling your eyes when we say this, but sex can be just as incredible if it's with the right person! So you need to ask yourself a simple question. Do you trust him? Trust him to be gentle with you? Trust him to treat you right? Because listen to me when I say that it is_ okay _if you like your husband!_

 _You are not betraying yourself or your family. You deserve to be happy, Maliya Martell Stark. So take a chance, sister. Take a risk. You deserve to find someone who loves you and would do anything for you, but more importantly, someone who you can trust and someone you can count on for everything. And I deserve some nieces and nephews! (I just laughed at the look that is probably on your face right now.)_

 _In all seriousness, my dear complicated sister, I wish I could be there to help walk you through this and deliver my advice in person. I'm proud of everything you've done and how strong you are. And while I'm jealous that you have a new family, they do sound wonderful. I hope that I get to meet them one day._

 _I miss you everyday. Write me back soon,_

 _Arianne_

A tear slowly trickled down Maliya's face as a sharp pang of homesickness shot through her. She wished more than anything else in the world that her sister was sitting right next to her.

"Princess? Is everything alright?" Startled, Maliya jumped, hastily brushing her tear away and plastering a smile on her face as she looked up at her concerned husband, who sat down next to her on the bench with a frown.

"Yes, of course," she told him, brushing away his worry.

"News from home?" Robb questioned quietly, nodding at the letter Maliya was folding and hiding, considering that the contents were mostly about him.

"Yes," she sighed, hiding her pain with a smile. "From my sister, Arianne. Everything seems to be going well in Dorne." She glanced over at him from underneath her eyelashes and saw his worried blue eyes still on her. "I'm fine, Robb, honestly. You don't need to worry about me."

Robb turned to face her, an expression on his face that Maliya had never seen on his face before and one she couldn't quite read. "You are my wife, Maliya," he reminded her in a slow, sincere voice, placing his hand on hers atop the table and causing her heart to break into a sprint. "I am going to worry about you from now until the day that I die."

Maliya's lips parted at his words, her wide brown eyes flickering from the warmth of his hand on hers, his thumb brushing a sensual pattern into her skin, and back up to his face, at a loss for words.

She was saved from having to make a response by the reappearance of Rickon, his face flushed red and his eyes alight with excitement. "Robb, Maliya!" He cried, skidding to a stop in front of them and grabbing their hands, inadvertently pulling them apart. "You have to come quick!"

"What?" Robb asked in alarm, searching his little brother for any sign of injury. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Annoyance crossed Rickon's face as he swatted Robb's hands away. "No, Robb – stop! I'm fine! Have you looked outside yet? It's _snowing_!" He crowed, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Can we go outside, Robb, please? I already got my cloak, and yours and Maliya's! Please say yes!"

"Of course we can," Robb grinned, swinging his legs back over the bench and standing. "Did you know that Maliya has never seen snow before?"

"No way," Rickon breathed, his eyes growing incredibly wide. "Well, come on then! Snow is so much fun!"

He threw their cloaks at Robb and took off, whooping loudly as he ran out of the Great Hall. Maliya chuckled and shook her head, watching him run. "I wish I had half of the amount of energy that your brother has," Maliya mused, her expression fond.

"Yeah. I don't remember any of the others being quite as spirited as Rickon. Except for maybe Arya, but she was more of a troublemaker." She turned to Robb to see that he already had his cloak on and was holding hers extectantly. "So, Princess? Are you ready for your first snowfall?"

Maliya grimaced and crossed her arms. "Would you hate me if I said no?"

Robb chuckled, shaking out her cloak and swinging it around her shoulders. She watched him, holding her breath as he fastened it for her, his fingers lightly brushing her neck. That look came back into his eyes again as he pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, sighing. "Honestly," he murmured, lightly running a knuckle down her cheek. "I don't think I could ever hate you." Maliya blinked up at him, completely bewildered by all the things he was saying. Something about him had changed but Maliya wasn't quite sure what it was. He grinned at the stunned expression on her face. "Come," he said, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together. "It's time for me to change your opinion on snow."

"You can try all you like, Robb," Maliya began, finally having found her voice once they were out of the Great Hall, even though her heart was still hammering in her chest, all too aware of his fingers laced with hers. "But I don't think I'm ever going to like – oh!"

Maliya unconsciously slowed as Robb opened the door that led outside and she was blinded by white. Her eyes opened wide in wonder as she looked around; everything was blanketed by a rapidly growing blanket of snow. It covered everything – the bare branches of the trees, the tall towers of Winterfells castle. She let go of Robb's hand to walk farther out into the open field, tilting her head back, her eyelashes fluttering as she tried to see where the snowflakes were coming from.

"So?" Robb asked, watching her with her head tilted to the side and an amused smile on his lips. "What do you think?"

Her eyes were alive, her cheeks already flushed red from the cold as she turned to look at him, holding her hands and watching the snowflakes hit them and melt. "You were right," she breathed, grinning wide. "It's beautiful… it's magical, it's – quiet. How is it so quiet?"

"It's one of those mysteries," Robb answered, walking towards her, the snow already covering his reddish brown curls. "But can you say that other part again? The part where you said I was right? I have a feeling I should get that in writing so that I can use it during future disagreements."

Maliya cocked an eyebrow in amusement. "Do you plan on starting many disagreements with me, husband?"

"Well, wife," he murmured, reaching her and placing his hands on her waist, her hands resting on his arms as she looked up at him. "Based on what your uncle told me and the incredible person that I'm getting to know, then… yes." Maliya let out a surprised laugh, smacking him playfully on the chest and making his smile widen. "You're a passionate person, Princess. I don't want a boring marriage and I welcome any disagreements where I get to prove that I'm right."

"Once again, you can try all you like," Maliya told him, her voice dropping to a whisper as she realized that his face was drifting closer to hers. Was he going to kiss her? More importantly… did she want him to?

She didn't get a chance to find out because at that moment, a cold, wet ball of snow was lobbed in the air and managed to hit both Maliya and Robb in the face. Gasping in shock, Maliya blinked and wiped the snow away with her sleeve, looking around to see Rickon with his hands on his knees, his laughter at the look on their faces breaking through the silence.

Maliya and Robb looked at each other, an unspoken agreement passing between them. Rickon's laughter trailed off as they both turned to face him. "Rickon Stark," Robb thundered in a loud voice, causing Rickon's eyes to widen drastically. "You better run far. And you better run fast!"

Giving a wild yell, Rickon took off, Robb lunging after him. Maliya crossed her arms, pulling her cloak tighter around her to ward off the chill, chuckling quietly to herself as she watched the two of them wrestle around in the snow. "Come on, Maliya!" Robb yelled, wrapping his arms around a struggling Rickon and holding him up. "I'll hold him still, you shoot!"

"No!" Rickon squealed, laughing as Robb began to tickle him as well. "No, Maliya!" He squirmed, trying to break Robb's hold as Maliya approached them, bending to pick up a pile of snow and shaping it into a ball. "You're supposed to be on my side, remember! You said you would always be there if I need you, and I need you!"

She knew that this wasn't a serious situation, but it was a promise that she had made to him and it was a promise that she was going to keep. So when she drew her arm back and let go, it hit the intended target – Robb's face. His look was comical and now Rickon wasn't the only laughing. He gave a triumphant yell and wiggled free, running to Maliya's side. "You know what this means, don't you?" Robb grinned, shaking his head and wiping the snow out of his eyes. "This means war!"

"Run, Rickon!" Maliya shouted dramatically, bending to scoop up some more snow as Robb hurriedly did the same. "Save yourself!"

"No, I won't leave you to deal with this monster alone!" Rickon shouted back.

"Monster?" Robb gasped in outrage, unable to stop his own laugh from escaping. "I'll show you a monster!"

He ducked under the snowball that Rickon threw, dodged Maliya's and it all escalated from there. Maliya couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard – it certainly hadn't been since she had arrived in Winterfell. Before long she was covered in snow from head to toe, breathless from laughing so hard and both sweating and freezing at the same time.

At some point Rickon had collapsed, exhausted, lying back in the snow and staring up at the sky. Shaggydog chose that moment to come bounding up to him, nudging him playfully and pretending to run away again. Rickon laughed and pushed him away, but it wasn't until Shaggydog pulled off one of his gloves and ran away that Rickon got up, yelling after him and leaving Maliya to fend for herself.

"Ready to admit defeat yet?" Robb taunted, blue eyes sparkling through the thickly falling snow as they circled each other.

"Never," Maliya smirked, pelting him with the snowball that she had made before quickly making and throwing as many as she could. Robb threw his arms up to cover his face, stumbling blindly towards her. She laughed as he wrapped his arms around her, still moving, and then yelped as they both lost their balance. Still feeling breathless, Maliya's eyes fluttered open and widened at Robb's face above her. She was overwhelmed by him. His magnificent blue eyes captured hers, she could feel the length of his body pressed against hers as he held himself up by his elbows and all of the sudden she wasn't cold anymore. Warmth spread through her, starting in her lower belly and working it's way to her fingers and toes – and now she was breathless for a different reason. "Well, this feels oddly familiar," she whispered, her eyes searching his face as the memory of their almost kiss came floating back to her.

"I don't want to be friends with you," Robb blurted out of nowhere. Maliya frowned, her eyebrows pulling together as a flash of hurt ran through her. "No, no!" He frantically hurried to explain, shaking his head. "No, I want to be friends with you! I've already told you that I've been enjoying getting you know you, Princess, and I really like the person that I've married." He huffed, closing his eyes in exasperation. "I'm really messing this up."

Feeling immensely confused, wondering if he could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest, she shook her head. "Robb – "

"I want to be more than that," Robb interrupted her, his blue eyes burning with an intensity that took Maliya aback. "You're smart, you're courageous, you're beautiful and most importantly, you have a good heart. And more often than not, I find myself wanting to kiss you."

"Then why haven't you?" Maliya asked him quietly, without even meaning to.

"Because neither of us wanted this marriage. Because we had an understanding that we would start over and focus on getting to know one another. And honestly, I wasn't sure if you wanted me to." Maliya watched him, mesmerized, as he brushed hair and snow away from her face, his tone thoughtful. "I told you on our wedding night that I will not do anything with you, unless you want to. So what do you want, Maliya Stark?"

 _Do you trust him?_ Arianne's words drifted through her mind. _Trust him to be gentle with you? Trust him to treat you right?_ Maliya already knew that answers to those questions. _Take a chance, sister. Take a risk._

Eyes carefully flickering between the two of his, Maliya raised a slightly shaking hand and lightly cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing back and forth slowly. Her gaze drops to his mouth when he unconsciously licks his lips and she realizes just how close his mouth is. So close that their breath mingles. Her gaze flicks back up to see a curious, slightly pained expression in his eyes as he waits, and Maliya knew that Robb would never take from her, not unless he knew she wanted it too. "Maliya," he breathed, barely a whisper of a sound.

Lifting her head slowly, her eyes still captivated by his, she brushed her lips against his. She felt it down to her toes, even though it was barely a touch. Robb sucked in a breath, his body freezing in place, so Maliya did it again. She was more confident this time, more sure, and she applied more pressure, clinging to his lower lip. Robb softly groaned deep in his throat and he finally moved. Placing his weight on one elbow, Robb threaded his hand through her tangled, half frozen hair, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss. It was a warm, melting exploration, lips meeting and parting in a slow rhythm. Maliya's arms came up to circle around his neck, pulling him closer to her as she ignited, burning brighter than the sun. Taking her completely by surprise, sensation, want and need surge through her on a whimper that was lost in his mouth.

She feels him shudder in her grasp as he deepens the kiss even further, their tongues meeting and clashing and Maliya was lost. She was drowning, unsure which was was up, the only thing that mattered in that moment was Robb. Gasping for breath, his cheeks flushed red and his eyes dark with lust, he pulled away and Maliya lowered her head back to the ground, slowly coming back down to herself. "It's better," he panted, the corner of his mouth lifting as he pressed another kiss to her mouth.

"Better?" She mumbled against his lips, not understanding.

"Kissing you," he clarified. "It's better than I imagined."

Maliya's heart leaped in her chest at his words, and she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face. "Then shut up and kiss me again," she demanded, fingers tangling in the curls at the base of his neck as he lowered his head and captured her lips once more.

"Robb? Robb – well, well, well. What do we have here?"

Robb pulled away at the sound of the man's voice, groaning and burying her head in her neck. "Maybe if we ignore him he'll just go away," Maliya whispered, giggling slightly even as her cheeks flamed red in embarrassment.

"Go away, Theon!" Robb ground out in annoyance, pulling back and glaring at Theon.

"As much as I would love to so you two can finally get it on – even I'm impressed with how public this all is – I have news that you're going to want to hear," Theon pressed, crossing his arms.

Robb rolled his eyes in irritation. "What could possibly be so important – "

"Bran's awake."

Robb's head snapped around to stare at Theon with wide eyes, frozen in shock for a long moment before he scrambled up off Maliya, helping her to her feet as they both headed towards the castle, peppering him with questions.

"When did he wake up? Why didn't you come find us sooner?"

"Is he alright? Is Maester Luwin with him?"

"He's not in any pain is he? Can he talk?"

"Whoa, slow down," Theon complained, jogging behind the pair of them as they half ran, half walked through the corridors and up to Bran's bedchambers. "I haven't even seen him yet, Old Nan was with him and she sent someone to find Maester Luwin and you."

Maliya lifted her soaked skirts with one hand to avoid tripping on them, the other still tightly encased in Robb's hand as he picked up the pace. Worry, hope and relief warred through her but she couldn't even imagine what Robb was feeling right now.

He let go of her hand when he burst into Bran's room, hurrying over to his bedside, his eyes frantic as they searched him up and down. Maester Luwin stepped back as they approached and Maliya hovered at the foot of his bed, throat tightening when Bran's brown eyes found hers, looking between the two of them in confusion. "What happened to you guys?"

Frowning, Maliya looked down at herself and then over at Robb and had to bite back a smile at their appearances. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know what her hair looked like but Robb's glistened slightly from the snow and ice mixed into it, and both of their outfits and cloaks were stiff with snow and soaking wet. They must have looked like quite the sight. "You've woken up just in time for the first snow fall, Bran," Robb told him proudly, a happy grin on his face that faded as he took a closer look at his brother. "How are you feeling?" Bran looked away from them, his expression going flat as he shrugged. Robb's own expression fell in response, and without turning around, he barked. "Leave us. Everyone." They bowed slightly, Maliya following suit, but just as she made to leave Robb spoke again. "Not you, Maliya."

Swallowing thickly, Maliya hesitated for a moment before closing the door behind Theon, Old Nan and Maester Luwin. Lacing her fingers in front of her, she moved back across the room to stand beside Robb who had gingerly sat on Bran's bed, his face serious. "Bran, I've seen you climb a thousand times," he began, shaking his head. "In the wind… in the rain. A _thousand_ times. You never fall."

"I did though," Bran protested in a quiet voice.

"Do you remember anything?" Maliya inquired gently. "From… before you fell?"

Bran slowly shook his head and Maliya could practically feel Robb deflate in disappointment. Playing with the covers of his fur blanket, Bran looked up at them, his eyebrows furrowed. "It's true, isn't it? What Maester Luwin says about my legs?"

Maliya helplessly looked to Robb, whose jaw was clenching and unclenching, his eyes so sad. When he nodded after a moment, Bran looked away again, and Maliya realized that he had been holding out a small bit of hope. That he wouldn't believe it unless the older brother that he trusted most told him it was true. And now that hope was crushed. "I'd rather be dead," Bran muttered in an emotionless voice.

Robb recoiled as if he had been punched in the gut. "Don't say that," he snapped, blue eyes flashing. "Don't ever say that – "

Bran turned his head to look him in the eye, his gaze unflinching. "I'd rather be dead," he repeated in a slow voice, making sure Robb heard every word.

Robb looked completely shattered. "Bran…"

The boy looked away again, dismissing them. "I'd like to be alone."

"Bran – "

"I _said_ ," Bran snarled, eyes flashing. "I'd like to be alone."

"Robb," Maliya quietly interrupted, when he opened his mouth to say something else. "Robb let's go."

"But – " he tried to protest again, but Maliya caught his gaze and shook her head. Nostrils flaring slightly, Robb rose from Bran's bed and stalked out the door, throwing it open so hard it bounced off the opposite wall.

Maliya made to go after him but paused, turning back to Bran to see him staring at the ceiling above his bed. "He's been so worried about you Bran," she told him quietly. "I know you're hurting right now, but we're both here for you. And we're so glad that you're awake."

* * *

" _Father?" She whispered in a trembling voice, tugging on the sheets that covered his bed. "Father, wake up!"_

 _With a grumbling sigh, her father rolled over to face her, blinking his violet eyes open and focusing on her, sitting up with a frown. "What is it? Are you alright?" Biting her lip to keep from crying, she slowly shook her head. Frown deepening, her father reached down to pick her up, placing her on his lap, and putting his arms around her. "Now. What's wrong with my little Rhae of sunshine?" He murmured, tapping her on the nose._

" _I had another nightmare," she whispered in a small, ashamed voice._

 _Her father sighed, trying to hide the worry in his eyes. "What about this time?"_

" _I don't remember what happened," she told him, scrunching her nose. "I just remember feeling scared. You're not going to leave me, are you father? You and mother and Aegon? We'll stay together forever, won't we?"_

" _Of course we will, sweet girl, you have nothing to worry about," her father promised, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I love you very much, you know that right?"_

 _She giggled as his long silver-white hair tickled her neck when he leaned forward. "I love you too, Father."_

 _The wail of a baby came from the room next door and the both of them looked up. Her mother rolled over at the sound, frowning as she was pulled from her slumber. "Rhaegar?" She mumbled sleepily._

" _I've got him," he told her, kissing Rhaenys' head one more time before picking her up and putting her in the space between him and her mother. "Be right back."_

" _Rhaenys?" Her mother questioned, noticing her sitting there in bed, and she winced as she struggled to sit up against the pillows. "Is everything alright?"_

" _It is now," Rhaenys answered, snuggling into her mother's open arms, closing her eyes happily as her mother weakly hugged her. "Are you going to be able to get out of bed soon, Mama?"_

" _I hope so, sweet girl. It's just taking me a bit longer to recover from giving birth to your brother."_

" _Are you mad at him for it?" Rhaenys asked innocently._

" _Oh honey, of course not!" Her mother reassured her, smiling and sitting up more as her father entered the room again, carrying a bundle of blankets in his arms. "Look at your brother, Rhaenys," her mother said gently, as her father sat back down on the bed. Rhaenys sat up on her knees, shifting closer to her brother and looking down at a now quiet Aegon. His violet eyes blinked up at her, gurgling happily as Rhaenys gently reached out and touched the soft whisps of his silver-white hair. "He's as perfect as you were when you were born. And I love you both very much."_

" _Your brother is a very important baby, Rhaenys, and not just to us. The bleeding star that we saw on the night of his birth signaled his arrival as the prince that was promised. But_ you _are just as important."_

" _I am?" Rhaneys questioned quizzically, looking away from her brother and up at her father's face._

" _Of course you are," her father answered, lifting Aegon to press a kiss to his forehead before passing him along to her mother with a smile. He gracefully rose from the bed, his smile sad as he held his hand out to her. Rhaenys looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes and slid off the bed, taking his hand and following him as he crossed the room. "Your journey will be difficult, Rhaenys, but I have faith in you. It's important to know that you will not make this journey alone. Trust your heart and your instincts and you will go far." He paused with his hand on the bedchamber door handle and looked down at her. "Are you ready?"_

" _Ready for what, father?" Rhaenys asked, tilting her head. "I don't understand – "_

" _I know, sweet girl. But you will soon. Because this is where your journey starts." Her father pulled the door open and lead her through it._

 _Instead of the corridor that she was expecting, she found herself in some sort of long, underground room with a dirt floor. It was somewhat dark down here, the only light from the occasional flickering torch on the walls. Great big statues of men lined the walls, swords on their laps and wolves at their feet. "Where are we, Father?" Rhaenys asked in a small, voice, peeking around the room even as she shrank into her father's side. "I don't think I like it down here."_

" _Don't you feel it, Rhaenys?" Her father questioned, his violet eyes flashing in agitation. "That strange pull? Stop fighting it!" Her father placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her to one of the statues and she found herself looking up into the face of a solemn man, whose stone eyes seemed to pierce through her. "You are the one who fulfilled the Pact of Ice and Fire and only you can follow this path that destiny is leading you towards."_

 _Confused, Rhaenys shook her head. "Father? I still don't understand. Father?" Tearing her eyes away from the statue, she looked for her father but he was nowhere to be found._

 _He was gone and she was alone once again._

Gasping, Maliya's eyes snapped open as she sat upright in bed, sweat dripping down her neck. Feeling confined and unable to breathe, Maliya shoved the covers off her and staggered out of bed, placing a hand on the wall and taking deep, shuddering breaths. What in the seven hells was that dream? Was it… was it possible that the beginning, the part with her family, had been a long forgotten memory? Even if it wasn't, it still caused a sweet, sharp ache in her chest. Her family had been alive in that moment, they'd been happy and she was so sad that it had ended.

But the end of the dream… the part where her father took her down into what she now realized was Winterfell's crypts. Was he trying to tell her something? The image of Lord Cregan's Starks tomb, because somehow she knew whose it was, was burned into her mind and it seemed like too much of a coincidence to just ignore. She didn't have an inkling of what an old, dirty crypt was supposed to do for her, but she wasn't going to ignore it if her father was trying to help her from beyond the grave.

She glanced over the bed, taking in Robb's still sleeping form, his face buried deep in his pillow. The memory of their kiss came back to her and for a moment Maliya had to struggle to subdue the urge to wake him up and relive the incredible feeling. Instead, she pulled on her cloak and shoved her feet into a pair of boots, tiptoeing across the room and carefully opening and closing the door behind her.

She hurried through the empty corridors of Winterfell, grateful that it was the middle of the night and everyone seemed to be asleep. She knew the castle well enough by now to know how to avoid the guards that Robb posted and she made it through to the crypts without being noticed. After grabbing a torch off the wall and hiding a shiver at the strange pull she felt, Maliya descended down the stairs, passing the first level which held Robb's grandfather, Lyanna and Brandon as well as the other empty tombs waiting for the current generation. She passed the second level, following the pull and got off at the third.

Holding the torch high, she slowly walked along the row of statues, examining each face until she found the one that she was looking for. The pull grew stronger as she stopped in front of Lord Cregan Stark's tomb. Her eyes ran over his face, the sword on his lap and down to the wolf curled at his feet. Her father said that her journey started here, that destiny was leading her down a certain path. What was it exactly that she was supposed to find? She looked at the tomb and snorted doubtfully. Dragon eggs? But why would dragon eggs be hidden in Cregan's Stark tomb?

Knowing this pull would never go away unless she figured out what it was, Maliya placed the torch in one of the holders on the wall and got to work. She ran her hands over every inch of the tomb. She tried to push it open, even though she was completely grossed out if the eggs were with his decaying body. She pushed and poked and prodded until she was exhausted, dirty and pissed off.

"Skoriot ūja?" _Where is it?_ She yelled into the face of the dead Lord, her voice eerily echoing through the crypt. "Skoriot drōmons? Sīkudi nopāzmi!" _Where are the eggs? Seven hells!_

With a shout of frustration, Maliya curled her hands into fists and slammed her hands down on the stone, her hair covering her face as she bent over, closing her eyes and trying to control herself. Her hands throbbed, reminding her of what an idiot she was. She had seriously thought that her dead father had tried to help her find some dragon eggs that most likely didn't exist in the first place.

A low noise echoed through the crypts, making Maliya jerk her head up in surprise and look around wildly. It was a strange sound, like stone sliding over stone, and she didn't understand where it was coming from until she realized that a small hole was opening up next to Cregan Stark's tomb. Eyes widening incredulously, Maliya looked down to see that she had hit one of the stone jewels on his sword, which apparently was a button to a…. secret passage?

With her heart threatening to pound straight out of her chest, Maliya stepped down off the statue, feeling breathless with both excitement and anticipation as she plucked the torch off the wall and crouched down, holding the light out and trying to see where the small tunnel led. It looked just big enough for a grown man to crawl through, but other then a disturbing amount of cobwebs, Maliya couldn't see what was on the other end.

Hoping that the tunnel wouldn't collapse on her, Maliya held her breath held out the torch out with one hand to burn away the cobwebs and awkwardly crawled through. It wasn't a very long tunnel thankfully, and it only took two or three minutes before she was out on the other side. The pull inside her grew stronger and stronger as she stood and looked around.

The light from the torch flickered off what looked like a small, manmade circular room built into the stone. Her eyes ran over some old swords, some women's jewelery and silverware, trinkets that were probably valuable at some point, but ones that she had no interest in now. A large, impressive sword caught her eye and she had just started to head over to it curiously when her foot gently kicked something across the floor. Frowning, she bent down to pick it up, unable to tell what it was. Holding it closer to the light, Maliya realized it was a dark blue color with small ridges carved into the stone, that looked oddly like… scales. "No," Maliya breathed in horror, feeling all the blood drain from her body. "No, no, no, no!"

Shining the fire light around frantically and moving around the room, Maliya's eyes darted around, her body freezing when they fell on a section of the room that appeared to have caved in from above. Hurrying over and falling to her knees beside the large stone pile, Maliya placed the torch against a portion of the wall that was still standing. Her hands hovered over the rubble, her eyes searching through it and not liking what she saw. Carefully sifting through it, Maliya pulled out other colored pieces of what felt like stone, but she knew better. This was Vermaxes' clutch of dragon eggs… or at least, it used to be. It appeared that the eggs had turned to stone over time and couldn't withstand the weight of the cave in. Now these pieces were all that were left.

Feeling helpless and dejected and a bit like she was going to cry, Maliya continued to go through the large pile of stone and collected the pieces of what looked like three dragon eggs, blue, red, and green. When she couldn't find any more pieces, muscles trembling, she blinked a tear down her cheek as she felt a great sense of loss.

Why? What was the point of all this – the pull, the dreams, the letter – if it led her to broken dragon eggs? And why would Cregan Stark, if it even was him, hide the eggs here? What if no one had ever found them? Sighing, she collapsed back against the wall, cursing as she knocked the torch over and it rolled away from her. The flames flickered oddly around the room as it rolled, and she shifted onto her knees crawling over to where it stopped next to a metal battle helmet. She reached for the torch, about to pick it up, when something caught her eye.

Mouth dropping open, Maliya moved the helmet out of the way and gasped when she revealed another dragon egg, one that was whole and perfectly unblemished. Dimly she realized that it must have gotten knocked away in the collapse, but the thought fled her mind as quickly as it came as she reached out with two shaky hands to pick it up.

Her whole body pulsed with heat and when she finally did pick it up, the pull that had been driving her insane was immediately gone. Eyes wide with wonder, disbelief and triumph, Maliya ran her hands over the egg, turning it over and inspecting it carefully to make sure it was unblemished. It was a perfect, pearly white color with veins of gold running through it, and with a jolt that shook her entire system, she realized that she had dreamed of this egg before, only she hadn't remembered it until just now.

Her father was right. It had been her destiny to fulfill the Pact of Ice and Fire. Was it also her destiny to somehow get this egg to hatch and bring dragons back to Westeros?

* * *

 **Author's Note: Ahhhhh, I can't believe it! Maliya has found the missing dragon eggs and though some of them were broken she only needs one, I guess. As for where the dragon eggs were… I completely made that up. Since the eggs were only a rumor and probably won't exist in canon, I did my best to make it realistic. I know the rumor says it was in the crypts but not where. If it was someplace obvious they would have been found already. I'm leaving the 'why' it was left in the room up to you guys, since we can't ask Cregan Stark or whoever put them in there.**

 **And what did you guys think about that kiss?! And how would you feel about bumping the rating up to M? *waggles eyebrows***

 **I know some of you are very…opinionated about certain parts of my story, but I hope everyone is enjoying it so far! I am always so excited about sitting down to write the next chapter and I hope to continue this story for a long time!**

 **As always, don't be afraid to share any future ideas for the story! You guys are amazing! :)**

Boramir - Thanks for your review! As far as Jon's parentage is concerned, you have to remember that the story is being told from Maliya's POV. In my mind, she has no reason to believe that Jon isn't Ned's son, and she would have no idea where to begin as far as his mother is concerned. I can tell you, that as of right now, Jon's parentage won't be reveal for quite a long while!

Guest 1 - Thanks for your review. I'm sorry, but I have to admit that it completely confused me. You wanted Ned to arrive in Maegor's Holdfast to save Elia and her children, cut the Mountain's children and then marry Elia? I'm afraid that your flights of fancy are not part of my story plot :(

guest - Thanks for your review, I'm glad you liked the chapter! And thank you for letting me know about my mistake, I fixed it right away!

Guest 2 - I'm so happy you liked the chapter, thanks for reviewing! I hope you liked what Maliya did with the contents of the letter.

Boramir 2 - Are there two of you? It's a very unique guest name lol, but thanks for reviewing! From Maliya's POV, there are six people who know her real identity. Herself, Doran, Oberyn, Ned, whoever smuggled her out of King's Landing and the person who wrote the letter (she doesn't know that they could be the same person). You are correct in mentioning that Viserys and Danaerys know nothing about Maliya's identity, people were only told what they needed to know. And don't worry, we will find out who tried to assassinate Bran! Hope you liked this chapter!

Guest 3 - Thanks for such a great compliment! It's the biggest form of praise to hear that you think i've flawlessly added Maliya into the story.

Anna.B - I continue to love your reviews! I really enjoyed hearing all your thoughts on the chapter and have to admit that some of them give me ideas for future chapters! For instance, I'm still sorting out my plot for future season and you mentioning Doran and Oberyn Martells feelings about their niece going to war has already sparked ideas in my brain! I hope you like this chapter just as much as the last!

Guest 4 - Thanks for reviewing! I hope you liked this chapter!


	10. Acceptance

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed this story! As always, your responses are much appreciated and loved. Don't get too used to updates this quickly, I had off last week and managed to get most of this written!**

 **I feel like an idiot having to do this, but I realized that my timeline didn't quite workout with the rest of my plot, so I've had to change it yet again - hopefully for the last time! Robert's Rebellion will have taken place 16 years ago instead of 13. Everyone's ages are going to stay the same except for Maliya's - she'll be 18 turning 19. I'm going to go back and read through the previous chapters and make sure everything is now the same. Sorry about that!**

 **Hope you guys enjoy the chapter! Special thanks for Maddie Rose for reading through this! Don't forget to review :)**

* * *

Chapter 10: Acceptance

Maliya stared down at her dragon egg, contemplating it with a frown. She had been sneaking down into the crypts every night for the past week, trying in vain to get it to hatch. Unsurprisingly, she had absolutely no idea what she was doing. The only thing she knew about dragons was that they could grow to be very large and could breathe fire. So naturally, her first thought to get the egg to hatch was obviously fire.

She had tried everything. Surrounding the egg with fire, putting it in the fire and even praying over the damn thing while it glowed from the fire. Nothing worked. The little bubble of hope that had been growing inside her since she had found the dragon egg was slowly beginning to fade. There was a reason that dragons hadn't existed for centuries. Rumors existed of petrified dragon eggs all over the world that have never hatched.

Frustrated all over again, Maliya grudgingly realized that she might have to accept that her dragon egg had turned to stone as well. Because she had no idea what else to try, and it wasn't like it would have been written down in one of Winterfell's burned books. The secret of hatching a dragon had probably been lost for hundreds of years now.

The question was, what did she do with it now? The thought crossed her mind that many people would pay an obsene amount of gold dragons for a dragon egg, but as soon as she thought it, she shook her head in disgust. Maliya was the blood of the dragon, even giving a stone egg away would be going against her family. Besides, the dragon egg was _hers_. She was the one who had found it, even though technically it was in the crypts of Winterfell. Showing it to her husband was out of the question. She might be beginning to trust him with her emotionally and physically, but she didn't know what he would do with a dragon egg.

Stifling a sigh and realizing that she had probably been down here for too long, Maliya carefully picked the egg up again and placed in inside the small chest that she had secretly gotten made. It was the first thing that she had done when she had found it. First she had bought a chest that was just the right size, then had it laid with a cushion, a depression in the middle where the egg would go. Running her hand over the egg reverently, she reluctantly placed it inside and closed the chest, glad at least that it would be safe if there were any more cave ins. She would have hidden it somewhere in her room, but she didn't want Robb stumbling across it by accident.

After crawling out of the small tunnel and re-pressing the stone jewel on Cregan Stark's sword, Maliya dusted off the dirt from her dress, reclaimed her torch and headed with the many stairs that led out of the crypts. She put the torch back just inside the doors and pushed them open, a frown still on her face.

"Lady Stark." Gasping in surprise, Maliya jumped, her hand flying to her chest, so distracted by thoughts of the egg that she didn't even notice someone had been walking by the crypt.

"Maester Luwin!" She greeted breathlessly, trying to slow her rapid beating heart. Trying to plaster a smile on her face to deter his curious gaze moving from the crypt back to her. "Was there something that you needed?"

"Yes, actually." Her tactic worked as now Maester Luwin cleared his throat and began to focus on what he came here for. "It appears that Lord Tyrion Lannister is stopping here on his way back from the Wall. Lord Robb is requesting your presence in the Great Hall to receive him."

* * *

 **Ned's POV**

"The _whore_ is pregnant," Robert spat, a dark look in his eye that Ned didn't like.

"You're speaking of murdering a child – "

"I warned you this would happen," Robert continued as if Ned hasn't spoken at all. "Back in the North, I warned you, but you didn't care to hear! Well, hear it now! I want 'em dead, mother and child both! And that fool, Viserys as well, is that plain enough for you? _I want them dead._ "

The rest of the Small Council, Lord Varys, Grandmaester Pycelle, Renly Baratheon, Petyr Baelish and Ser Barristan Selmy, looked extremely uncomfortable, but that wasn't going to stop Ned from being straight with the King. Ned almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. His friend, someone who he had known since childhood, was talking of murdering a girl, a _child_ , all because she may be pregnant.

He had to make Robert see sense. "You will dishonor yourself forever if you do this – "

"Honor?" Robert roared. "I've got seven kingdoms to rule! One king, seven kingdoms! Do you think honor keeps them in line? Do you think its honor that's keeping the peace? It's fear, fear and blood – "

"Then we're no better than the Mad King – "

"Careful Ned, careful now!"

"Robert," he pleaded, stepping forward, and trying to implore his friend instead of the King. "I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children!"

"To put an end to _Targaryens_!" Robert growled, slamming his fist down on the table.

Feeling the panic begin to rise within him, he decided to change tactics. "You want to assassinate a girl, because the spider heard a rumor."

Lord Varys actually looked affronted as he leaned forward in his chair to speak up. "No rumor, My Lord, the princess is with child."

"Based on whose information?" Ned demanded instantly, only growing more incensed when he heard Varys' answer.

"Ser Jorah Mormont. He's serving as advisor to the Targaryens."

"Mormont," Ned repeated in disgust, hardly able to believe it. "You bring whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact."

"Jorah Mormont's a slaver, not a traitor!" Baelish chuckled, a smile on his face that made Ned want to punch him. "Small difference, I know, to an honorable man."

"He broke the law, betrayed his family, fled our lands!" Ned retorted, his voice unconsciously rising at the mention of that traitor. "We commit murder on the word of this man?"

"And if he's right?" Robert questioned, raising his eyebrows. "If she has a son? A Targaryen at the head of a Dothraki army, what then?"

"The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I'll fear the Dothraki the day the teach their horses to run on water."

"Do nothing. That's your _wise_ advice? Do nothing until our enemies are on our shores?" He growled in irritation, glancing around at the men sitting around him. "You're my council, council him! Speak sense to this honorable fool."

One by one, each man spoke their minds, some of them trying to switch Ned to their side.

"I understand your misgivings, My Lord, truly I do!" Lord Varys hurried to placate him, his voice sickly sweet. "It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing! Yet we who presume to rule must sometimes do vile things for _the good of the realm._ Should the gods grant Danaerys a son, the realm will bleed."

Ser Barristan Selmy raised his pale blue eyes from the table and said, "Your Grace, there is honor in facing an enemy on the battlefield, but none in killing him in his mother's womb. Forgive me, but I must stand with Lord Eddard." Robert's eyes darkened at the answer, but Ned inclined his head toward the older man respectfully.

"I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die, how many towns will burn?" Grandmaester Pycelle questioned, slowly and carefully turning his body to face Ned. "Is it not wiser, is it not kinder that she should die now so that tens of thousands might live?"

 _With that sort of thinking, one could explain away anything,_ Ned thought in anger.

"We should have had them both killed years ago," Renly Baratheon said flippantly, waving a hand.

"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes, get it over with. Cut her throat. Be done with it." Littlefinger announced, raising his cup for a drink.

Ned was done listening to these kiss ass fools. He approached the table where the King was sitting, making sure he heard the next few words. "I followed you into war. Twice. Without doubts, without second thoughts. But I will not follow you now. The Robert that I grew up with wouldn't tremble at the shadow of an unborn child."

Ned was against the killing of children to begin with, but after discovering the fact that his good daughter was actually Rhaenys Targaryen, he couldn't knowingly stand by and watch as her aunt was murdered. The thought sickened him to the point where he thought he was either going to puke or start shouting.

The King answered his unflinching gaze with one of his own. "She dies."

"I will have no part of it," Ned snapped.

"You are the King's Hand, Lord Stark, you will do as I command or I'll find me a hand who will."

Ned unfastened the heavy clasp that clutched at the folds of his cloak, the ornate silver hand that was his badge of office. He tossed it onto the table, saddened by the memory of the man who had pinned it on him, the friend he had loved."Then good luck to him. I thought you were a better man than this. A better King."

Robert's face was purple. "Out," he croaked, choking on his rage. "Out, damn you, I'm done with you! Go, run back to Winterfell! I'll have your head on a spike. I'll put it there myself you fool!"

There was one thing that Robert was right about. Ned was getting his girls and he was going home.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

Maliya strode into the Great Hall, Maester Luwin following along at her heels. Her brown eyes scanned the room quickly, taking everything in. A dozen guards lined either side, the tables pushed to the side to receive their guests. Theon was standing in front of the steps and Grey Wind was lounging at the top of them. Robb was sitting up at the high table in his father's seat, his figure imposing. Maliya frowned at the look on his face; she could almost feel the icy breeze from his gaze.

"Ah, Lady Stark!" Her attention was diverted to the smaller man standing in front of the table next to some guards from the Night's Watch. "It is so nice to see you again."

"Lord Tyrion," Maliya greeted, smiling in genuine pleasure, pausing beside him as he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, before continuing up to take her seat beside Robb, Maester Luwin on the other side. "It is good to – "

"Why have you come here, Lannister?" Robb interrupted, his voice as icy as his blue eyes. Maliya's mouth snapped shut, her nostrils flaring as he blatantly and very rudely cut her off. It took a second, but she managed to rearrange her pissed off expression. It took another second for Maliya to figure out what Robb's problem was and she couldn't believe she didn't see it sooner. Lord Tyrion was a Lannister and the Lannisters had attempted to kill Bran.

Why didn't Maliya group Lord Tyrion into that Lannister category?

Lord Tyrion's eyes slowly moved from Maliya to Robb, his expression considerably cooler, though Maliya thought she saw some amusement in his mismatched eyes. "I have business with your brother, Bran."

She could feel Robb stiffen beside her, his jaw ticking. "And what business could you possibly have with my nine year old brother?"

Lord Tyrion tilted his head to the side, smiling politely. "That is something that I would like to discuss with your brother."

Robb stared at him for a long moment. "Theon, fetch Hodor and bring Bran down here," he commanded, his eyes still on Lord Tyrion. Theon bowed and left the Great Hall, and it was only then that Robb spoke again, turning his attention to the guards of the Night's Watch. "Any man of the Night's Watch is welcome here at Winterfell for as long as he wishes to stay."

Maliya's eyebrows rose into the air as she slowly turned her head to look at her husband in disbelief, wondering when he had become so rash and reckless. To deliberately deny or violate guest rights was a seriously dangerous line to walk on in view of both the old gods and the new.

Lord Tyrion recognized the slight, gazing at him with shrewd eyes. "Any man of the Nights Watch, but not me, do I take your meaning, boy?"

Maliya laid a restraining hand on Robb's arm, her smile back in place. "I'm sure that's not what my husband meant. Can we get some bread and salt for Lord Tyrion?" Maliya asked, glancing at one of the guards standing to her left. "Of course you are welcome here – "

Robb shot her a withering glance meant to silence her and she withdrew her hand back into her own lap, stung. "I am not your _boy_ , Lannister. I am Lord of Winterfell while my father and mother are away."

Lord Tyrion's gaze was piercing. "Then perhaps you might learn a lord's courtesy, something your lovely wife seems to understand better than you," he drawled, nodding his head respectfully towards her before turning his gaze back to Robb. "It would appear that your bastard brother has all your father's graces."

Maliya inwardly winced, wondering what Robb would say to that, but was saved from having to find out by the appearance of Bran and Hodor. Her heart ached as she watched Bran's legs swing uselessly from where Hodor has him clutched against his chest. Her eyes flickered to Tyrion to see his reaction and was surprised to find that the small man looked sympathetic. "So it's true," he commented softly. "Hello, Bran. Do you remember anything about what happened?"

"He has no memory of that day," Maester Luwin answered, raising his voice slightly.

"Curious," Lord Tyrion murmured. It looked like his mind was racing and Maliya would have paid no small amount of money to know what he was thinking.

"Why are you here?" Robb asked again in a hard voice.

"Would your charming companion be so kind as to kneel, my neck is beginning to hurt," Lord Tyrion told Bran in a pleasant voice, completely different than the one he used with Robb. Bran gave the order and Tyrion continued. "Do you like to ride, Bran?"

"Yes," Bran answered instantly, his automatic smile fading almost at once. "I mean I _did_ like to."

"The boy's lost the use of his legs," Maester Luwin pointed out.

"What of it?" Lord Tyrion asked with a scathing look. "With the right horse and saddle even a cripple can ride."

"I'm not a cripple," Bran told him in a thick voice, tears springing to his eyes.

"Then I'm not a dwarf!" Lord Tyrion cried in a slightly teasing voice. "My father will rejoice to hear it." Maliya couldn't help the grin that crossed her face, remembering what he had said about his father in the library tower that night. "I have a gift for you. Give this to your saddler, he'll provide the rest." He handed a roll of parchment to Bran, who unrolled it and looked down. Tyrion, however, looked back up at the high table. "You must shape the horse to the rider. Start with a yearling and train it to respond to the reins and to the boys voice."

"Will I really be able to ride?" Bran asked in a small, hopeful voice, the beginnings of the first smile that Maliya had seen since he fell start to spread across his face.

"You will," Lord Tyrion declared, smiling in return. "On a horse, you will be as tall as any of them."

Theon passed the drawing from Bran up to Robb. Maliya examined it briefly over his shoulder and had to admit she was impressed. "Did you create this yourself, Lord Tyrion? You draw very nicely."

"Thank you, My Lady," Lord Tyrion grinned, inclining his head slightly. "It is not unlike some of my own saddles."

"Is this some sort of trick?" Robb interrupted, and Maliya had to struggle not to roll her eyes at his aggressive tone. This was the Robb from when they were first married and she had no wish to see that man again. "Why do you want to help him?"

Lord Tyrion's expression went flat. "Your brother Jon asked it of me. I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards and broken things."

Robb shifted slightly in his seat, jaw working once more. "You have done my brother a kindness, Lord Tyrion," he grudgingly admitted, realizing that he may have been wrong. "The hospitality of Winterfell is yours – "

"Spare me your false curtesies, Lord Stark," Lord Tyrion interrupted in a loud, drawling voice. "There's a brothel outside your walls. There I'll find a bed and both of us can sleep easier." He turned to Maliya and bowed slightly again. "Always a pleasure, My Lady," he murmured before turning on his heel and stalking out of the hall, his guards on his heels.

Maliya waited until the door slammed behind him before turning to face her dear husband, her brown eyes flashing and her mouth curved into a disappointed frown. "Nicely done, _Lord Stark_ ," she sniped sarcastically, pushing back from her chair and sweeping out of the Great Hall.

She heard the heels of his boots clicking behind her and even that sounded angry. She knew that she was in for it, but could care less at the moment. Sure enough, she had made it halfway down the corridor before she felt a hand on her arm, spinning her arm to face him. It felt oddly familiar and Maliya wondered if this argument would also end with her backhanding him across the face.

"What is your problem?" he demanded, blue eyes flashing dangerously as he glared down at her. "You can't interrupt me like that when we have guests, Maliya, it undermines my authority as the Lord of Winterfell – "

"Did your father ever teach you how to be Lord of Winterfell?" Maliya shot back sarcastically, crossing her arms. "You can't just deny a man as powerful as Tyrion Lannister guest rights, Robb! It wasn't the smartest move – "

"The Lannisters tried to – " He abruptly cut himself off as a maid hesitantly walked passed them, shooting them an odd look. Growling in frustration, Robb grabbed her hand, looked around quickly and pulled her into one of Winterfell's storage rooms. Maliya raised her eyebrows at him, but he just continued to hiss at her. "The Lannisters tried to murder my little brother. Or have you forgotten?"

"Of course not," Maliya snapped, offended that he would even say such a thing. "But I don't think it was Lord Tyrion – "

"Why, because he can be witty and charming – "

"No! He was trying to help Bran with this saddle, why would he help him – "

"Maybe he was feeling guilty!" Robb cried, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "What proof do you have that Lord Tyrion was not the one that tried to kill Bran?"

Maliya mouth wordlessly for a moment before rapidly shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "Either way, it doesn't matter! Tywin Lannister himself could walk through your front gates, and you still can't be that rude to your guests! If there was one thing I learned from my father, it was that you had to always be courteous to people that enter your home, even if you hated them more than anyone else in this world. For one thing, you shouldn't let them in on how you feel towards them – now Tyrion knows that something is amiss."

Robb was watching her with burning blue eyes, his expression unreadable. "Are you quite finished lecturing me as if I am a child?"

"No," Maliya snapped, her hands moving to her hips. Once the words started spilling out of her mouth, she couldn't stop them. "Maybe if you stopped acting like a child, I wouldn't feel the need to interrupt you and undermine your authority! You are Lord of Winterfell now, Robb, and you've been doing well so far, but I am also the Lady of Winterfell and you have to learn to trust me too! I was raised to be a princess, I know how to handle social courtesies. Part of being a ruler is listening to those around you and taking their opinions into consideration, not just your own!"

"Finished?" Robb asked in a low voice, jaw ticking.

Maliya rolled her eyes, casting her mind and coming up empty. "Yes," she sniffed. "For now."

"Good," he muttered huskily, one of his hands coming up behind her neck and pulling her forward so he could crash his lips to hers. Shock flittered through her at the unexpected action, her hands coming up to clutch at his arms as she stumbled forward into him. That brief moment of surprise was quickly overtaken by a soft moan of an almost forgotten longing as Robb decisively deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping inside her mouth.

She didn't know what his whole change of mood was about, but she certainly wasn't complaining. Standing on her tiptoes so she could reach him better, Maliya's hands tracing up his arms to tangle in his curls, pulling him even closer to her. He made a low sound of approval in his throat, which did strange things to her insides. Just as with their last kiss, Maliya forgot everything – Lord Tyrion's visit, her and Robb's argument, where they currently were. All she could do was feel Robb's lips moving seductively against hers, his hand coming to the small of her back to bow her against him.

She barely felt her back hitting the wooden shelves as Robb walked her forward and pinned her against it. Panting heavily, Robb pulled away for air, her head involuntarily tilting to the side as he just moved his lips to her neck, kissing and nipping his way down to her shoulder. One of his hands trailed down her side and her leg, grabbing behind her knee and hitching her leg up so he could press against her. Maliya gasped as she felt his hardness pressed against her, her lower belly flooding with heat as her hips involuntarily rocked against him.

While she wasn't entirely sure she could comprehend what was happening to her body, Maliya definitely knew that she wanted more. "Vūjigo yne." _Kiss me,_ she muttered breathlessly, her hands coming up to cup his face and bring his lips back to hers, devouring him greedily.

The door to the storage room burst open and a maid with a bucket full of dirty water walked in. She shrieked in surprise at the sight of them, dropping the bucket as she clapped a hand over her eyes. Robb and Maliya jerked apart at the intrusion, their heads jerking toward the door. "My Lord!" The lady squeaked in an embarrassed voice, her face flaming under her hand. "My Lady! I – I'm so sorry! I'll just – " Fumbling with the door with her eyes still covered, she hurriedly shut the door and ran away.

Groaning, Maliya's head dropped forward against Robb's chest, her hands dropping from his face to cover her own. "Gods," Maliya groaned, feeling humiliated.

Robb chuckled, placing a knuckle under her chin and lifting her face to his. "It's alright, she won't say anything." Brushing her hair back from her face, Robb softly pressed his lips to hers once more, though there was none of the previous eagerness or rush. "I'm sorry for being an idiot, Princess, sometimes I act without thinking."

Maliya nodded, accepting his apology. "You were protecting your family and I can't really fault you for that. I'm sorry for inadvertently undermining your authority. I'd rather us be partners, Robb, rather than one of us overriding the other."

"I agree," Robb smiled, his blue eyes twinkling fondly. "From now on, we're partners. The Lord and Lady of Winterfell," he murmured, hands slipping around her waist.

Maliya smiled back, arms threading around his neck. "I like the sound of that," she whispered, raising herself up and kissing him once more.

Robb kissed her back for a few moments but his hands eventually came up to pull hers away before taking a large step back. He took a deep, steadying breath, his hair messed from her hands in a sexy way, his lips slightly swollen and his eyes bright. "I need to go," he told her uncertainly, his voice husky. His eyes carefully raked over her, making him swallow harshly. "Yeah, I definitely need to go," he nodded resolutely.

"What?" Maliya asked in confusion, stepping towards him once more and making him step back again. "Why? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that you look like _that_ ," he told her, waving a hand in her general direction. "And if I don't leave now then I'm going to end up taking you against these shelves in this dirty storage room and you deserve better than that for your first time." Maliya mouthed at him wordlessly, both taken aback and turned on by his words. She had half a mind to tell him that it didn't matter and pull him back into her arms. "I'm not going to do anything unless you want to, Maliya. This decision is up to you."

And with one last look and a shake of his head, Robb left, leaving Maliya to watch him go, feeling conflicted.

"Come on, Bran, you can do it!" Maliya encouraged from where she was sitting on one of the benches outside. Grey Wind was lounging next to her, his large head in her lap, his eyes closed as she lightly scratched behind his ears.

Bran was sitting atop his new horse, his legs tightly encased in his new saddle. His body was slumped forward against the horse's neck, his expression uncertain. "Alright Bran, I want you to try sitting up now," Robb said soothingly to him from his position right beside the horse. "I'm going to be right here in case you fall."

"Don't worry, Summer," Maliya murmured to the tense direwolf beside her, his eyes locked onto his master as if he could sense that something could go wrong. "Bran's going to be just fine."

Taking a deep breath, Bran nodded to Robb, grabbed hold of the horse's mane and slowly pushed himself up. Maliya held her breath as she watched him pause, swaying slightly. "Tighten your stomach," Robb coached, holding his hands up just in case Bran swayed too far. "Good! Good, Bran, how does that feel? You doing alright?"

"I'm doing great," Bran grinned breathlessly, his brown eyes holding a life in them that Maliya rarely saw anymore. "Can we go for a ride soon, Robb?"

Robb chuckled, shaking his head. "Not quite yet. Let's take it slow."

Bran nodded reluctantly. "Lord Tyrion said that I have to train the horse to respond to my voice and the reins. How do I do that?"

"Well unfortunately, without the expertise of our Horse Master, Hullen, we're going to have to learn how to do that together."

Maliya watched them with a fond smile on her face, her head tilted to the side. She really enjoyed seeing Robb interact with his siblings, even if there were only two of them here. It was so different from the face of the Lord he put on when dealing with his guards and subjects. It was even different from the way he acted with her – and it made her like him all the more.

She couldn't have ever pictured herself in this position. To be with a man she was forced to marry, from a family that she had thought helped kill her own. Their relationship was at this pivotal tipping point. He was a man that she had hated at first, one that she would involuntarily flinch away from, and one that she didn't respect or trust in the slightest.

But somehow, between her realizing the Starks didn't deserve her anger or thirst for revenge, she had come to care for him "as more than a friend." He was a strong, king, honorable person, a good son and brother. A little hot headed and over protective to be sure, but everyone had their flaws. And the way he kissed her, the warm, delicious way he made her body feel… it was intoxicating.

A wry smile touched her lips. Her sister always did have incredible timing; her letter of advice was impeccable. Maybe it was something that she would act upon.

Her eyes moved to Bran's face, the look of concentration and determination on his little face just wrenching at her heart. He was a nine-year-old little boy and had already suffered more than grown men five times his age. He should still be smiling and laughing, running along the rooftops and playing with the wolves and his brother.

Theon walked by heading to the stables and an idea sparked in her mind. Petting Grey Wind's head one more time, Maliya stood and followed him inside, leaning against the stall door and crossing her arms. Theon looked up at her from where he was saddling his horse and Maliya smirked at him. "Hi there, Greyjoy. I believe that there's a bet that needs to be fulfilled."

* * *

"You look mighty pleased with yourself," Robb commented to her softly during supper, leaning close to her.

"Do I?" Maliya asked innocently, turning to him with a smile and taking a sip of wine from her cup. "I can't imagine why."

Robb tilted his head to the side, his blue eyes narrowing in speculation. "Just what have you been up to, wife?" He murmured.

Maliya opened her mouth to answer him when Bran interrupted from Robb's other side. "May I be excused, Robb?" He asked in a solemn voice.

Robb's gaze turned concerned as he looked at his little brother. "Bran, I've been watching you all night, you've barely eaten anything."

"I'm just tired," Bran told him, pushing his plate away.

Maliya leaned on the table a bit so she could see Bran around Robb. "In a bit, alright, Bran?" She said in a soft voice. "You and Rickon might just find this night gets even more entertaining than you thought."

"Why?" Rickon piped up, taking a bite of his biscuit. "What's going to happen?"

Movement caught the corner of her eye and her grin widened until she felt positively gleeful. "You know, little man, I think you're about to find out."

Robb straightened as he followed her gaze and looked like he was about to stand from his chair. "What in the seven hells…"

Maliya grabbed his arm, halting his progress. "Remember that bet from the day my Uncle Oberyn trained Bran?"

"Is that Theon?" Rickon asked in a loud, shocked voice, his eyes wide even as he laughed. "Why is he almost _naked_?"

Maliya leaned an elbow on the table, her chin in her hand as she grinned down at the rest of the Great Hall. Whispers, gasps and chuckles of disbelief began to spread through the room as Theon walked among the tables, clambering on one of the empty ones in the middle. His face was beet red, in stark contrast to the rest of his pale body and white undergarments.

He took a deep breath, spread his arms wide and sang in a terribly off key voice, "A bear there was, a bear, a bear! All black and brown, and covered with hair."

She could hear Robb laughing beside her, but her attention was focused on Bran. The smile was small at first, but soon enough he was laughing and clapping along with the rest of the people of Winterfell. It may have been extremely embarrassing act for him, but he was handling it in typical Theon fashion. The mocking laughs turned to encouraging cheers as Theon theatrically sang from table to table, but Maliya didn't care. Her goal here wasn't to humiliate Theon, even though deflating his ego wouldn't be a bad thing, but to allow Rickon and Bran a few brief minutes to laugh and forget everything that's been happening around them.

Her attention was diverted as Robb slid an arm around her back. "I know what you're doing, Lady Stark," Robb murmured in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple before pulling back slightly to look her in the eye, his expression tender. "Thank you."

"They're my family," Maliya told him simply, shrugging. "Those little weasels weasled their way into my heart."

Robb's mouth parted slightly, but both of them had to pause in their conversation and look around as Theon approached the steps leading to the high table for the big finish. "Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air! My bear! She sang. My bear so fair! And off they went, from here to there, the bear, the bear, and the maiden fair!" He held the last note for a long moment, making Maliya wince slightly at how off key it was, spread his arms wide and took a deep, sweeping bow.

The Great Hall erupted into applause and Maliya joined in, slowly clapping as Theon turned around to face her and raised an expectant eyebrow. "Well done, Theon," she congratulated. "I'm impressed," she complimented, leaning forward and dropping her voice slightly. She remembered Theon's words from the day that she had made that bet. "Although now that I've seen what you're working with…" She dropped her gaze pointedly, and a knowing smirk spread across Theon's face. "I have to admit that I much prefer my husband in _every_ which way."

"Alright," Robb laughed as a dark look crossed Theon's face. "Enough you two, you've had your fun. Theon, go put some clothes on before this image is permanently burned in my mind."

"Theon did that because you beat him at shooting arrows, right?" Bran asked, the smile still on his face. Bran shook his head when Maliya nodded. "I thought you had forgotten about that!"

"That was funny," Rickon piped up, grinning at them all. "But Theon's not a very good singer, is he?"

* * *

"Maliya?" A trembling voice whispered, a finger lightly tapping her shoulder. "Maliya, wake up!" Startled, Maliya jerked awake, her eyes snapping open and locked on a small, scared looking Rickon. She frowned and started to sit up, but Robb gave a grumbling sigh, the arm that was thrown across her waist, tightening slightly and making her body flush. She glanced over at where he was sleeping on his stomach, his head buried in his pillow and back at Rickon.

"Are you okay?" Maliya asked quietly, noting the tears swimming in his normally bright eyes. "What's wrong?" Thunder crashed outside, making Rickon jump and whimper and Maliya understood. "Are you scared of the storm?" Rickon nodded. "Do you want to sleep in bed with us?" He shook his head. Frown deepening, Maliya carefully extracted herself from Robb's arm, holding her breath as he grumbled again, his arm reaching, finding her pillow and pulling that close to him. Getting out of bed and wrapping her robe around herself, Maliya took Rickon's hand and started towards the door. "Alright, come on. I'll bring you back to bed – "

"No," Rickon protested, tugging on her hand. "No, I don't want to go to sleep. I can't."

Maliya knelt down to his level, rubbing her hands up and down his arms, at a complete loss as to what to do to help him. "Do you want to wake Robb – "

"No!" Rickon whispered frantically, shaking his head. "I don't want him to know."

"Okay. Okay," she muttered, casting her mind around in a desperate attempt to help him. "Oh!" She exclaimed excitedly. "You know what my sister and I would do for my little brother when he woke up from a nightmare?" Rickon shook his head, his eyes flickering to the window as thunder crashed outside again. "We would sneak down to the kitchens while everyone was asleep and we would make some pie!"

"Pie?" Rickon questioned in a small voice, peeking up at her from under his eyelashes.

Maliya smiled – she knew she had him. "Pie," she repeated, in an enthusiastic voice. "My sister always told Trystane and I what to do, but I think I remember the basics. Would you like to sneak downstairs and make some pie, Rickon Stark?"

"Can we really?" Rickon asked, his eyes beginning to light up.

"Sure!" Standing, she grabbed his hand again and they left her bedchambers and headed for the kitchens. "How hard can it be?"

"So, what do we need?" Rickon asked once they had successfully snuck into the kitchens without running into anyone.

He looked up at her expectantly, and Maliya screwed up her face, trying to remember all the ingredients that Arianne used to bark at them. "Hmmm, we need flour, salt, eggs, sugar and… water, I think?" She looked at him expectantly and raised her eyebrows. "Well? This is your home, Rick, I don't know where anything is!"

Rickon put his hands on his hips and gave her an exasperated look that was quite amusing on a five year old's face. "I've never even _been_ in the kitchens! And besides, this is your home now, too, Maliya."

"Thanks, little man," Maliya smiled, ruffling his hair and feeling incredibly touched. "That means a lot. Now come on, we have some ingredient hunting to do."

Ten minutes later, they had the ingredients and tools piled on the table in front of them after scouring every inch of the kitchens. "Now what?" Rickon asked her from the stool he was sitting on.

"First we need to add the flour, sugar and salt," Maliya told him, nodding, grinning when she remembered that bit.

Rickon reached for the flour and paused. "How much?"

Maliya frowned, eyebrows furrowing. "I'm… not sure," she admitted, scratching her head. "A few handfuls maybe? I guess we'll just have to try and see how it comes out." Rickon shrugged carelessly. "Right! So the first thing you have to do is…."

Rickon listened to her directions with an intense look of concentration, his brow furrowed as he stirred the mixture, Maliya adding water every now and again until it combined into dough. She watched him knead and roll it out and decided to take a chance. "So, I never knew that you didn't like thunderstorms," she ventured, searching for information. Rickon paused slightly, but kept silent and Maliya backtracked, not wanting to upset him. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"I didn't use to mind thunderstorms," Rickon protested after a moment, beating into the dough harder than necessary. "But… the lightning started the fire in the library tower – Jory said you could have _died_."

Guilt shot through her, hard and fast. "Oh Rickon, it's alright, I'm fine!" She assured him softly, putting a hand on his back. "Nothing happened to me, I'm still here."

"I know," Rickon admitted, looking up at her with big, worried eyes. "But what if the lightning starts another fire? And what if we can't get out?"

"Listen very carefully to what I say next, Rickon," Maliya told him in a serious voice, making sure he was paying attention. "The fire in the library tower was just an accident. The chances of another lightning strike hitting Winterfell's castle are very slim, and even if it did happen, the castle is made of stone not wood." He nodded solemnly at her response and Maliya frowned at him, determined to make him smile once more. Surreptisiously sticking her finger in the flour, Maliya turned his face toward her, squinting at him. "You know, you've got something right… there!" Eyes widening, Rickon rubbed his cheek where she had rubbed the flour and a slow grin spread across his face. Deliberately reaching across the table, he grabbed a fistful of flour. "Don't you even think about it, Rickon Stark," Maliya warned, holding her finger up at him. She hadn't even thought about his possible retaliation.

Grinning wickedly, Rickon held his hand up and blew the flour with all his might so it puffed in a white cloud right in front of her face. Blinking rapidly and coughing slightly, she couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow as Rickon burst out laughing. "Your…. Face...!" He gasped, doubling over.

"We're about to have a repeat of that snowball fight aren't we?" Maliya grinned, inching toward the flour. "Except now we're on opposing sides. Interesting…"

"You know, Maliya, for a princess you're not very ladylike."

Maliya paused, straightening slightly with a thoughtful look on her face. "I'm not sure whether that's an insult or a compliment."

"Compliment," Rickon nodded firmly. "You're very fun. I like having you around."

"Aw, thank you – " She shrieked in outrage as Rickon used her distraction to lunge for the flour and throw a fistful at her. He leaped off the stool, chasing her around the kitchen and it was all downhill from there.

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

Rolling over and blinking awake at a particularly loud thunderclap, he lifted his head and looked over to Maliya's side of the bed only to realize that it was empty and he was sprawled across it diagonally. "Maliya?" He muttered in confusion, voice thick with sleep as he sat up and quickly scanned the room. When he realized she wasn't there at all, worry ate at him. He threw back the fur covers, slipping on his robe and leaving the room.

He wandered the corridors, wondering where in the seven hells could she be. He didn't even bother considering the fact that she may be outside – the rain was still falling heavily against the roof and the shutters. Venturing down the stairs, Robb approached one of the guards on his nightly rounds and asked in a pleasant voice. "Have you seen my wife? I fear she's wandering the corridors tonight."

"I have, My Lord," The guard inclined his head respectfully. "She was walking towards the Great Hall with Rickon." Robb's brow furrowed – what were she and Rickon up to. The guard hesitated slightly. "I apologize, Lord Stark, I would have stopped her, but she didn't seem to be in trouble – "

"Not to fear, I was just concerned when I saw she wasn't in our bedchambers. Thanks for your help Waylor." Robb clapped the man on the shoulder and continued on his way, turning into the Great Hall. His blue eyes scanned the room, frowning as he slowly walked through it. They were nowhere in sight. He was just about to turn and leave when the sound of Rickon's laughter drifted through the room, and Robb followed it, bewildered when it led him towards the kitchens.

His eyebrows shot up in shock as he stopped abruptly in the doorway. His gaze flickered from the flour all over kitchen – how did it get on the ceiling? – to his little brother sitting on the table with his legs kicking back and forth to his wife leaning against the wall, eating blueberries.

"What in the seven hells happened in here?" Robb asked, unable to stop his shocked grin from spreading across his face. "And why are the two of you completely covered in flour?"

"Hi Robb!" Rickon chirped, craning his head around to look at him, his white teeth matching the white flour on his face, his bright eyes blinking at him. "We were making - " He frowned, turning back around to look at Maliya. "Maliya, we forgot to finish the pie!"

She chuckled at the look of disappointment on his face, popping another blueberry in her mouth. "That's alright, Rick," she assured him. "I didn't really remember how to make that pie anyway. And we would have finished making the pie if you hadn't thrown flour in my face!"

Rickon's eyes widened in outrage as he pointed a finger at her. "You put flour on my face first!"

Robb quickly intervened as Maliya playfully narrowed her own eyes at him. "And why exactly were you attempting to make pie?" He asked, crossing his arms and quirking an eyebrow.

"I couldn't sleep," Rickon told him, looking away from him and fidgeting slightly. "And Maliya told me that when her or her brother couldn't sleep, her older sister distracted them by making pie!"

"Except after all these years it seems I've forgotten both the quantities and the actual ingredients that go into the pie," Maliya sighed, shaking her head. She peeked over at him, holding up the small bowl. "Would you like some blueberries? Where do you get these anyway, isn't it too cold up here to grow them?"

"We get them imported," Robb answered distractedly, entering the kitchen and walking over to Rickon. "Come on Rickon, it's late – or early rather. Let's get you back to bed."

"Do I have to?" He complained, face crumpling into a pout.

"Yes, I'm afraid you do. Come on," he grunted, lifting Rickon off the table and setting him on the floor. "I'm going to walk you to Waylor and he's going to find someone to clean you up and get you back into bed. I'm going to help Maliya clean the kitchen first."

"Fine," Rickon sighed dejectedly, turning to Maliya before he left and hugging her around the waist. "Thanks, Maliya. You always make me feel better," he murmured, closing his eyes tightly.

Robb watched Maliya smile fondly down at him, wrapping her arms around him for a quick squeeze. "Anytime, Rickon. Now off you go. I'll see you when you wake."

Rickon yawned as they headed back out through the Great Hall. It seemed that the adrenaline and the excitement were finally leaving his body and he grew tired again, his little body not used to be up at such hours. "Robb? I'm glad Mother and Father made you marry Maliya. She's not ever going to leave is she?"

Robb put an arm around his shoulder, giving him a small smile. "No, Rickon. She will not be going anywhere." He leaned down to whisper conspiratorily in his ear. "And can I tell you a secret? I'm glad that I'm married to her as well."

After Robb handed Rickon off to Waylor, he headed back towards the kitchens and found Maliya leisurely leaning back against the table, still popping blueberries into her mouth. He stopped in front of her, tilting his head to the side as he surveyed her crticially. "You know with all that flour in your hair, it's as if I'm looking at a future version of you."

Maliya pouted at him, then shrugged. "I'm choosing to take that as a compliment, actually. It'll be a blessing if I age with little to no wrinkles."

"And I'm going to choose not to respond to that one," Robb wisely chuckled. "Come on, we should clean up a little."

She wrinkled her nose. "Do we have to?" She complained playfully, before raising an eyebrow. "I could think of much more _fun_ things we could be doing."

A knowing smirk crossed her lips, her brown eyes dancing and Robb had to swallow hard at the tempting image that she posed. Her hair was still slightly mussed from sleep so it was a bit more wild than usual, her nightgown was thinner than her dresses and her robe was carelessly falling off one shoulder. "Maliya…" Robb warned, trying to keep the stirrings of arousal away.

"What?" She questioned innocently, her eyes widening. "Want a blueberry? They're really juicy – whoops!" She went to bite one in half and the juice spilled over her chin and onto her chest. Robb watched it trickle down, holding his breath, and when she shifted to look down at it, it went in between her breasts, her fingers diving after it.

Robb hastily looked away, feeling his lower torso tighten and cleared his throat loudly. "Alright! I've changed my mind. I am going to stay here and clean some of this up and you are going to wake your handmaiden and take a bath."

Maliya was finally distracted as she frowned up at him in confusion. "What? Robb, this isn't even your mess – "

"Just go, Princess. I don't want to argue about this." If she didn't leave soon, he wasn't sure that he would be able to control himself, and he had made her a promise that he was going to keep. She put the bowl of blueberries down on the table, still frowning slightly as she contemplated him thoughtfully. Robb's entire body tensed as she slowly approached him, her eyes flickering between both of his. He watched her warily as she stopped in front of him, close enough that he could feel her body heat and smell her somewhat floral scent. "Maliya," he began warily.

"Shhh," she murmured, pressing a finger to his lips. He felt his heart pounding rapidly, forcing himself to keep his hands to his sides as she put hers on his chest, leaning against him as she balanced on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was extremely soft, exploratory almost, and while it wasn't as heated as their previous one, it still took all his effort not to pull her in closer and deepen it. He followed her lead, drowning in the unhurried, cautious way that she kissed him. It was intoxicating. _She_ was intoxicating and he was losing himself in her.

He blinked slowly in surprise as she pulled away, and he was glad to see that he wasn't the only one affected. Her eyes were definitely a shade darker and her cheeks were slightly flushed. "What was that for?" He asked in a husky voice.

"I wanted to," she murmured simply. "And I also wanted to say thank you. For being the kind, honorable man that everyone has been trying to tell me you are." A small smile played at the edges of her lips as she took a deep breath. "You've been very open and honest with your side of our relationship and I would like to do the same."

"Alright," Robb whispered, suddenly feeling very nervous.

Maliya shifted slightly, her cheeks turning a darker red. "You've made me feel things that nobody else has ever made me feel. It's new and exciting and also a little terrifying. And the way you look at me sometimes – like you are right now, actually – a strange combination of warmth and lust, makes me breathless and giddy. Just the fact that I feel comfortable enough to say these things to you is something that I never would have pictured myself doing." Her smile turned shy and he found it extremely adorable. "I feel… lucky and grateful that you are my husband, Robb Stark." Seemingly unable to resist, she pressed her lips to his once more. "Good night."

Robb gaped after her as she left, shooting him one last smile before walking out the door. He was beyond stunned at the way this night had turned around, but he didn't regret it for one second. In fact... he felt like their relationship had evolved yet again and he couldn't help his pleased grin at the potential that he and his wife had together.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

Feeling clean and flour-free, Maliya quietly entered her bedchambers, holding the candle aloft as she carefully closed the door behind her. A glance towards the bed showed that Robb had finished cleaning the kitchens before her. It had taken her a while to rouse poor Julina from her sleep, fill and bath and then clean herself. Placing the candle on the small table beside the bed, Maliya slipped out of her robe and shivered in the cold, her wet hair dripping slightly down her back.

Hurrying into bed and burrowing deep under the furs, Maliya rolled over to blow out the candle. Despite being roused from her sleep, it had been a good night. As if sensing her presence, Robb rolled over to her, slipping his arm around her waist and letting out a contented sigh. Even though her heart skipped a beat at his touch, she couldn't help but smile. Arianne had been right it seemed – Maliya actually _liked_ her husband.

Maybe it was time to take her sister's advice as far as other matters were concerned.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Well, there it is! Hopefully things didn't seem too slow this chapter, but I'm trying to get an equal balance of action and romance - and in a few chapters there's going to be nothing but action! Is everyone still enjoying the way the story and Robb/Maliya's relationship is progressing?**

 **Next up: Bran get's attacked by wildlings and it's Robb/Maliya's first time - the rating will officially be bumped up to M next chapter. Would you guys rather read this from Robb or Maliya's POV?**

 **Don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you thought of the chapter!**

Guest 1 - Thanks for your reviewing! I'm so glad that you love the story next, I can't wait to read what you think about future chapters!

Guest 2 - Glad you liked it! Thanks for your review!

Boramir - Thanks! The other items in the crypt are pretty vague because it's being told from Maliya's POV and all she's really interested in is that egg! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Guest 3 - Thanks for reviewing. I appreciate your comments on the crypts and I'm glad you thought the chapter was great!

Samantha - I love that you loved the chapter :) I will definitely be bumping the rating up next chapter and you'll just have to wait and see what happens the the dragon egg!


	11. Firsts

**Author's Note: Another fast chapter! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed my story!**

 **Special thanks to Maddie Rose for reading through this. Just a reminder this chapter is rated M, so if that's not your thing just skip the ending! As always, don't forget to let me know what you think!**

* * *

Chapter 11: Firsts

"Morning, Bran," Maliya greeted cheerfully as she swept into his room, hiding something behind her back. She paused at his bedside, her smile faltering at the confused and worried look on his face. "What's the matter? Are you alright?"

His expression cleared when he noticed her and he quickly brushed off her concerns. "I'm alright, just thinking about a silly dream." He looked at her questioningly. "What are holding behind your back?"

"The best game that _only_ the smartest of us can play," Maliya told him excitedly, pulling the box from behind her back and placing it beside him on the bed. "My brother Trystane gave this to me as a farewell gift when I left Dorne. It's called Cyvasse."

"I've never heard of it," Bran said, picking up the box and examining inside.

"That's because it originated in Volantis and it's not popular in Westeros yet. My Uncle Oberyn brought it back from one of his travels overseas." She examined him closely. "So what do you think? Do you want to play? I can teach you."

"Yes!" A wide smile spread across his face, but he hesitated, glancing to the door and back. "Only… Robb said that I've practiced on Dancer for long enough and that we could go riding today."

Maliya carefully sat down on the bed beside him, her mood darkening slightly at what Robb was currently doing. He had received a letter today containing grave news, and had left immediately to converse with Maester Luwin about what should be done. "Robb told me that he was going to take you riding. He has a few things to take care of first, but he said that he will come find you when he is finished."

Bran was smiling again. "Alright, then, Maliya! Teach me how to play."

Pleased to see Bran in such good spirits, Maliya opened the box and pulled out the board. "Listen carefully, Bran, because this game can be quite confusing. The board is split into two halves, separated with this screen while we set up our homelands." She pulled it up so that neither of them could see the other's side. "Each of us will receive thirty two tiles, which consist of mountains, water, forests, grass and a fortress." She briefly explained how each tile worked, such as how only dragons can pass over the mountains and how water stops a piece's movement once they enter it and they have to skip a turn. "Each of us will also get ten unit pieces with their own special abilities. All the pieces can capture a piece of their same type or lower, the one ranked above it, and the King. The rabble is the weakest, then the spearman, crossbow man, light horse, heavy horse, elephant, catapult, trebuchet, the dragon and the king." She continued to explain each piece before pausing. "Understand everything so far?"

Bran nodded, a serious, contemplative look on his face. "Rabble, spearmen, elephants, trebuchets and the king can move one space at a time. The king can capture or be captured by any other pieces, the dragon can move anywhere on the board but can't attack forests, the light horse can move three spaces, the heavy horse two, and the crossbowmen, the trebuchet and the catapult can capture the dragon." Maliya blinked in surprise, a strange look crossing her face. "Maliya? What is it?"

"Nothing," Maliya sighed, smiling sadly and shaking her head. "You just remind me a lot of my brother. You're both very intelligent." Bran's grin widened proudly as Maliya continued to explain how the game worked. "And that's it, the game ends when one of the person's kings are captured. Any questions?" Bran shook his head. "Alright, let's get started then. We'll set up the tiles and the pieces and then we'll lower the screen and attack! You ready?"

"I am. The rules seem fairly simple." Maliya frowned at that, choosing not to mention that it had made zero sense to her when her uncle had tried to teach her and that it had taken a fortnight for her to truly understand the game. "Are you ready to lose?" Bran taunted teasingly, causing her eyebrows to shoot up and a snort to leave her lips.

"Yes, you and Trystane are very much alike," she chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Alright, Brandon Stark. Let us see what you've got."

Maliya played the game the way she usually did, but Bran, a first timer, consistently blocked her usual moves. She was forced time and time again to rethink her strategy, her frown deepening each time. It had been several months since she had last played this game and she had forgotten how much thinking and strategy was necessary. The game lasted well over an hour, until finally, with a feeling of triumph, Maliya made her move. "Well played, Bran," she congratulated with a smile, stretching her sore neck and back – she had been hunched over the board and only now just felt the stiffness. "That was a good game."

"But I lost," Bran sighed in frustration, looking disappointed.

"It was your first game," she reminded him gently, smiling. "I've been playing for years now. Besides, how do you expect to learn if you never lose?"

Bran gave her a pointed look. "This isn't going to turn into some life lesson, is it?"

Maliya rolled her eyes again. "Don't worry, I'm not my father."

A knock came at the door and they both looked around to see Robb enter the room, Hodor behind him. Maliya's eyes flickered over her husband's face. While he smiled for his brother's benefit, Maliya knew to look closely enough to see the worry and concern lurking behind his blue eyes. She was dying to ask him what had happened in his meeting with Maester Luwin, but she knew better than to do so in present company. "Hello, Bran. Sorry I took so long – are you ready?"

"I've been ready ever since Lord Tyrion told me that I can ride again!" Bran answered excitedly, practically bouncing up and down on his bed. "Come on, Hodor! Take me to Dancer."

"Hodor," Hodor grinned, lumbering into the room and lifting Bran into his arms and leaving.

Maliya cleaned up the game, putting the board and the pieces back in the box before closing it and standing. "Everything alright?" Maliya murmured quietly, walking over to him.

He looked down at her warmly, placing a knuckle under her chin and lifting her face to place a sweet kiss to her lips. She smiled up at him when he pulled away and he sighed, slipping an arm around her waist as they left Bran's room. "It's better now."

She paused at the doorway to their bedchambers. "Go have fun with Bran. You can tell me about it when you get back."

Robb frowned at her, confused. "You don't want to come with us?"

Maliya tilted her head to the side, her own eyebrows furrowing. "I didn't think I was invited. I thought that you wanted some time with your brother – "

"I have been spending much time with Bran, but today there are important things that we need to discuss," Robb interrupted. "Grab your cloak, Theon is waiting for us by the stables."

Maliya stifled the urge to wrinkle her nose at his name – ever since the night that he had sang in front of the Great Hall, the relationship between her and Theon had been…. Tolerable at best. They definitely weren't friends, but by some unspoken agreement they had stopped insulting each other. Maliya hurriedly put the cyvasse game back in her trunk and slipped on her cloak before joining Robb and heading towards the stables.

"Come on, Robb, hurry up!" Bran shouted as soon as they came into sight. Maliya couldn't help her smile even in the face of the terrible news that Robb had received. Bran's wide, carefree grin was nearly blinding from atop of Dancer, and his eyes were dancing with happiness. His legs were strapped securely into the saddle so there was no danger of him falling off, but there was still a part of Maliya that watched him nervously.

"Alright, Bran, go ahead," Robb laughed as Theon joined them. "But you're not to go too fast and you have to stay where I can see you, is that understood?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Bran called, brushing off his older brother's concerns. "Let's go already!"

"Should I have grabbed my sword?" Maliya asked with a frown, just noticing Robb's sword belted at his waist and the bows and arrows strapped to Theon's back.

"Need I remind you that you are a _lady_ ," Theon pointed out, raising his eyebrows. "Ladies do not carry swords."

Maliya rolled her eyes as they exited the gates of Winterfell and entered the forest. "Ladies in the north, you mean. Besides, if we get attacked who's going to save your sorry assess again?"

"Don't start," Robb interrupted quickly, noticing the heated look in Theon's eyes. "There are things both of you need to know. I've already spoken with Maester Luwin about this, but someone has recently told me that I need to listen to all advice before I make my decision." Maliya hid a secret smile at his words, but Robb was interrupted as Bran let out several whooping yells, looking happier than they had seen him in a long time. "Not too far!" Robb reminded him, watching him fondly.

"What is it that we need to know?" Theon pressed.

Robb wiped a weary hand over his face, sitting down on a large rock in the middle of the clearing, Theon next to him. Maliya crossed her arms, watching Bran as he was forced to circle around them, but he was so happy to be outside the castle walls that he didn't seem to care. "There's been news from King's Landing. The Lannisters have killed all of our men and the Kingslayer has put a spear through my father's leg."

Maliya's head snapped around to look at him, her eyes widening in disbelief. "What?" She gasped, her mouth opening and closing. "They did what? But… _why_?"

Robb looked like he had aged several years, his expression conflicted. "Apparently, my mother has captured Tyrion Lannister for attempting to murder Bran."

Maliya's mind was whirling, her thoughts jumping from one to the next. "Based on what evidence? Do you think she found something in King's Landing?"

Robb shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, we haven't heard from her."

"Blood for blood," Theon interrupted them in a dark voice, his usual smirk missing from his face. "You need to make the Lannisters pay for what they've done to Jory and the others."

Robb shook his head, looking unconvinced. "You're talking about starting a war, Theon – "

"The Kingslayer already started the war when he put a spear through your father's leg," Theon argued hotly, his voice passionate. "You need to raise the banners, because you can be assured that the Lannisters are rallying their own men."

Robb's jaw clenched as he turned his blue gaze to hers. "And you? What do you think?"

Maliya spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. "The Lannisters deserve to pay for what they have done," she declared, wondering if they could hear her hatred of them seeping into her voice. "But if you are going to declare war… make sure you've thought it through. It can't be a rash decision, it affects more lives and families than just ours. In this instance though, Robb, it is yours to make, not ours. You are the Lord of Winterfell and you are the only one who can call your bannermen."

Theon gave her a look that told her he clearly didn't agree with her words before turning to Robb expectantly. "So? What is it going to be?"

Robb looked away from both of them, his eyes scanning the woods. Blood draining from his face, he stood and with a horrified feeling flooding through her, Maliya realized that they had been so busy talking that they had forgotten to keep an eye on Bran. "Where is he?" Robb demanded, the worry evident in his voice. "Where is Bran?"

Theon stood too, looking around. "He can't have gotten that far. We should split up, we'll cover more ground that way."

"Agreed," Robb answered. "I'll go this way. Maliya, you're unarmed so you're coming with me. Whistle if you find him." Theon nodded and took off.

Robb made to do the same, but Maliya called after him. "Wait!" He turned back around, his eyes widening as she hiked up her dress, revealing the holster strapped around the thigh of her bare leg. She unsheathed two daggers, the other hidden in her boot. "Just in case," she told him once she was armed, feeling more secure with the daggers in her hand.

"We are going to discuss you walking around with weapons hidden under your skirts later," Robb told her with a pointed look, before jogging off in the last direction that they saw Bran. Both of them ran through the forest, keeping silent as they followed the trail that Dancer made as best they could. They leapt over a small stream and dodged trees. Robb skidded to a stop at one point, holding up a finger. "Listen! Do you hear that?"

Straining her ears, she finally heard Dancer give a nervous whinny from up ahead and they both doubled their speed. "Seven hells," Maliya swore softly when they finally came upon Bran. He was still seated atop his horse, but he was surrounded by five people, one of which was a woman and two of which were clothed similarily to the way Robb's Uncle Benjen had been dressed at their wedding.

"Drop the knife!" Robb snapped loudly, drawing his sword, his face thunderous. Maliya surreptisiously hid her daggers in the folds of her skirt as they whirled around to look at them. "Drop the knife and I'll let you live!"

One of the men spat on the floor at his words, and the other came charging at Robb, brandishing a giant axe above his head and yelling a war cry. Robb sidestepped two swings of the axe, raising his sword to thrust the third away from him and toward the ground. With a snarl on his face, Robb swiftly yanked the sword back towards him, slicing open the man's throat and effectively killing him. Three more of them came at them, all carrying different weapons.

Maliya shifted her stance as they approached, pulling her right arm back and letting the dagger fly where it lodged in one of the men's throat. He fell to the ground, dead, but Maliya had no time to think as another man swung a sword at her head, forcing her to duck and roll. Yelling angrily, Robb knocked them woman's club aside, forcing her to her knees. Grabbing her hair with one hand, Robb pivoted and thrust his sword through Maliya's opponent's chest, spraying her with his blood.

"Robb!" They both heard Bran yell, pausing in the fight to see the largest man holding Bran up with one arm around his neck, the other pressing a knife to his throat.

"Shut up," the man growled, shaking Bran. "Drop your weapons."

"No, don't – "

"Do it!" He ordered, pressing the knife harder into Bran's neck and making him wince.

Maliya's eyes flickered helplessly around them, her mind struggling to come up with a solution that would get them out of this. But the reality was, as long as that man was holding a dagger to Bran's throat there was nothing that they could do. Robb seemed to have come to that conclusion as well because he slowly knelt to place his sword on the ground. Maliya followed his lead, holding her hands out to the side.

"Now – " There was a low twanging noise and suddenly an arrow was protruding from the man's chest, a pained gurgling noise coming from his throat as he dropped Bran and fell to the side, revealing Theon standing several yards behind him his bow in his hand. He notched another arrow as he advanced, and once they were sure the other man wasn't moving, they were able to release the breaths they had been holding.

Shoving the woman down to the ground, Robb ran to Bran's side, his eyes angrily finding the cut on his thigh. "Are you alright?" Robb demanded in a soft voice, obviously trying to hide his fear and relief.

"Yes," Bran answered as Robb lifted him up into his arms. "It doesn't hurt. I'm sorry I wandered off, Robb, I should have listened to you."

Maliya, who had been collecting and replacing her daggers after cleaning them, grabbing Robb's sword and walked toward them. "It seems you learned a lesson today after all Bran," Maliya murmured, placing a hand on his arm and giving it a squeeze, telling her pounding heart that he really was alright. "We're all just glad that you're safe."

"Tough little lad!" Theon joked loudly from where he was standing over the cowering wildling woman with his arrow aimed at her head. "Well done. Robb – "

Robb, who had been examining the bodies surrounding them with a look of disgust and frustration on his face, glared at Theon, looking suddenly furious. "Have you lost your mind?" Robb demanded in a deep voice. "What if you had missed?"

A flash of anger crossed Theon's face. "He would have killed you and your wife and slit Bran's throat!" He argued, sounding offended as well.

"You don't have the right – "

"To what, to save your brother's life?" Theon exploded, his voice laced with bitterness. "It was the only thing to do so I did it."

Much as she was loathe to admit it, even she realized that Theon had in fact saved their lives. She also knew that now was not the time to be arguing about this. "Robb," she interrupted quietly, looking pointedly at Bran. "We need to get back so Maester Luwin can look at Bran's cut."

"Did you see their cloaks?" Theon asked, changing the subject and stowing his anger. "Some of these men were deserters of the Night's Watch."

"We'll hack off their heads and send them back to the Wall," Robb ordered, his face cold and impassive and reminding her so much of his father.

"And her?" Maliya asked, nodding at the wildling woman, her nose wrinkling as the woman cowered in front of them.

"Please m'lord," the woman groveled, glancing up at them and clasping her hands together. "Give me my life and I'm yours."

"We'll keep her alive," Robb declared after a glance down at Bran. The woman's gasp of relief sounded loud in the resulting silence. "It might do well to question her. Bind her hands Theon, we're going to bring her back to Winterfell."

Theon did as he was told, putting his bow and arrow away and pulling out his sword. He yanked the woman to her feet, pressing the sword tip to her back and ordering her to move. Robb followed after him, still holding Bran since the wildlings cut the leg straps on Dancer's saddle. Maliya was left holding Robb's sword and leading Dancer, but she didn't mind. The adrenaline was leaving her system and all that was left was a few lingering emotions.

The first was relief. Relief that Bran was relatively uninjured and that he was safe. The second was this weird attraction that she felt toward her husband right at this moment. She didn't know what it said about her, but seeing Robb wielding his sword and overpowering those men… it did strange things to her insides and she found herself wanting to kiss him. Though she had never felt this herself, she knew from her sister and cousins what it was – lust.

If she had been honest with herself, it had been building since the night in the kitchens. It was little things, the way he would brush her hair back from her face, how he would surprise her with a soft kiss and even how she found herself wrapped in his arms when she would wake each morning. The warmth in her belly when she thought about him was exhilarating and she honestly didn't know what she was waiting for anymore.

An idea sparked in her mind, and a nervous smile flitted across her face. She needed to find Julina when they got back to the castle in order to put her plan into action for tonight.

* * *

Maliya held her newly done up hair to the side as Julina tightened the lacings of her wedding dress. It was still just as beautiful as the day that Arianne had revealed it to her back in Dorne, even though it had been sitting unused for the past several months. Julina handed her the looking glass when she was finished and stepped back. Maliya could feel Julina's curious gaze on her as she examined herself. "Can I ask you a question, My Lady?" Julina ventured after a few moments.

Maliya should have expected this – she knew Julina would be intrigued because the only instructions Maliya had given her were, 'I need you to make me look exactly as I did on my wedding night.' Maliya sighed, setting aside the looking glass. "If you must, Julina. Go ahead."

There was a devious look on her face and a smirk playing around the edges of her lips. Maliya marveled at how comfortable Julina had become around her. "Are you going to enact some sort of fantasy of your wedding night?"

Maliya flushed slightly, but she nodded, agreeing with Julina's words. It was better than admitting that she had never actually consummated her marriage with her husband and that while she knew everything there was to know about sex thanks to her cousins and sister, she had never actually done any of it and she felt way out of her depth. "Yes! That is exactly what I'm doing," Maliya told her, smiling as she anxiously smoothed down her dress. "How do I look? Is it odd that I feel sort of breathless – as if I'm about to faint?"

"You still look as beautiful as the day you married Lord Stark," Julina reassured her, still smiling. "And there is no reason to feel nervous, My Lady, anyone with eyes can see that Lord Stark adores you. You could be wearing one of those burlap sacks the horse's feed is delivered in and he would still fall at your feet."

"Don't exaggerate, Julina," Maliya admonished, though her lips curled up slightly. "Are you sure everything's ready? I don't want to forget anything - "

"The fire is lit, there is wine and two cups on the table and the bed is turned down." Julina clasped her hands together, as she rattled off Maliya's instructions. "The only thing that's missing is Lord Robb. Shall I fetch him, My Lady?"

Maliya cleared her throat, smoothing her dress down once more and willing herself not to break out into a cold sweat. "Yes, please. Thank you, Julina." Julina curtsied and left, closing the door behind her and leaving Maliya alone. Unsure of what to do, Maliya crossed the room and poured herself a cup of wine, trying to steel her nerves. She was scared, sure, but she knew it wasn't because Robb would hurt her. She was more scared about what this night might lead to as far as their relationship was concerned.

What if she was terrible? What if Robb stopped liking her after tonight?

Maliya took a large gulp of wine, grimacing at the taste. No matter how often she drank it, it still never tasted like any of the wines back home. Sighing, Maliya drifted to the window, deciding that this waiting was absolute torture. What kind of plan was this anyway? Pinching the bridge of her nose, and realizing it was too late to change anything, she ran through the many years of advice that Arianne and the Sand Snakes had imparted to her, filing away anything vulgar to be looked at another time.

The door suddenly opened, making Maliya gasp and turn, her skirts whirling around her legs. "Maliya, is everything alright? Your handmaiden told me – " She watched him freeze in the doorway, his mouth dropping open, his eyes widening in shock, and Gods forgive her but she thought his look of innocent confusion was adorable. "That's… you're in your wedding dress. Have I somehow traveled back in time?"

Maliya walked towards the center of the room, placing her cup on the table as she passed. "Close the door, Robb."

Robb blinked, still looking confused, but he did as he was told, his eyes still on hers. "What's going on, Princess?" He asked in a quiet voice, approaching her slowly.

Maliya tilted her head to look up at him as he stopped in front of her, willing the damn fluttering in her stomach to stop. Seven hells, if she either vomited or fainted now, she would never forgive herself. She took a deep breath, struggling to get air into her lungs. _I am the blood of the dragon. I am not afraid._ "We were standing in this spot when you told me that you would not have sex with me until I was ready, until it was something that I wanted."

"Maliya – " Robb tried to interrupt but she cut him off.

"Don't, Robb, I need to get this out." He reluctantly shut his mouth, nodding and silently watching her with those blue eyes. "The girl who flinched away from you that night was angry at the thought of an arranged marriage, and scared of the man who was supposed to be her husband. She was determined to cling to what she thought she knew about him. Truthfully, I barely recognize that girl. Now, however, your family has somehow slipped into my heart… you have slipped into my heart." She could practically hear Robb swallow nervously and hurriedly finished what she was trying to say. "I had Julina help me into my wedding dress because a part of me wants to start over, to go back to that night and finish it the way it was supposed to end. I trust you, Robb," she murmured, stepping closer and placing her hands on his chest. "I want this. I want… us."

Maliya felt nervous all over again as his hands slid around her waist, the warmth and affection on his face was staggering. "I understand what you're saying, Maliya, but I don't want to start over. We've learned so much about each other these past couple of months. We've developed a mutual trust and understanding that wasn't there in the beginning. An experience on our wedding night would not have been as meaningful as an experience now would be."

"But you want this?" Maliya questioned, heart pounding as the uncertainty ate at her. "You want us?"

Robb let out an exasperated laugh, running a hand through his hair. "Of course, you beautiful, silly girl. I've wanted this since our wedding night and I've wanted there to be an us since I saw you in Arya's room, surrounded by my siblings as you told them that story about Nymeria."

"Good answer," Maliya breathed, warmth spreading through her chest.

"Are you sure about this?" Robb asked softly, his gaze searching. "Because we don't have to – "

"I want to," Maliya interrupted, leaning up on her tiptoes and pressing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away slowly. "We have waited…" Another kiss, longer this time as her arms wound around his neck. "Entirely too long for this."

Robb pulled away this time, his blue eyes darkening with desire, his breathing heavier and Maliya could read the hunger and desire in his expression. "If at any point you want to stop, say the word and I will," he told her seriously.

"I know," Maliya hummed. He bent his head to kiss her again, but she pulled away before he could, eyebrows furrowing. "Have you… have you ever done this before?" Her eyes flickered away from his and back again, shifting anxiously.

"No," Robb admitted. "Though with the way Theon goes on sometimes, I feel like I've had the experience several times over." He paused, tilting his head to the side at the amused grin on her face. "What?"

"Nothing," she murmured, shrugging, her cheeks hurting from smiling. "I'm just… happy."

The corner of Robb's lips lifted, his knuckles trailing down her cheek. "That is exactly what I needed to hear."

"Kiss me, husband," Maliya breathed, her eyes flickering down to his lips, the anticipation killing her. "I want you to know me. I want you to know _all_ of me."

"Gods," Robb groaned huskily, his eyes darkening further as his hand slipped around to the back of her head, tangling deep in her hair, pulling her face to his and capturing her lips hungrily. Maliya's nails dug into the back of his neck as she was once more swept away by the feel of his lips against hers. Her thoughts stuttered to a halt, her nerves fading away as warmth began to spread through her body, starting in the pit of her stomach and working it's way down to her toes.

All she could do was feel. The soft, yet insistent feel of his lips against her own as he deepened this kiss and slipped his tongue into her mouth. His hand sliding down to the small of her back to pull her as close to him as possible, the evidence of his arousal pressed against her stomach. The shudder that danced down his spine when she accidently yanked his hair after he nipped her bottom lip.

Maliya felt as if she were caught in that library tower fire again. Her body was an inferno and Robb was only serving to ignite the flames. Eventually Robb pulled away for air, tilting her head to the side so his lips could trail down the side of her neck, and Maliya was left panting up at the ceiling, her hands clutching his shoulders. A startled gasp left her as his lips reached where her pulse was hammering in her throat and Robb paused at the sound before repeating the action in order to wrench the sound from her again.

Pulling away slightly, breathing heavily, Robb grabbed her hand and placed it on his chest above where his own heart was pounding just as quickly as hers. Taking a deep breath, wondering if he was only going to move at her pace, Maliya gathered her hair in her hand, bringing it around to the front of her body and turning her back to expose the lacings of her dress to him. He hesitated only slightly before she felt his fingers begin to undo them. She bit her lip as she felt his skin against hers, and had to hold the material of the dress to her chest as it loosened.

When he finished, she stepped away and turned around to face him, trying to steel the nerves that had suddenly returned full force. Robb was about to see parts of her that no man had ever seen, and she was feeling an insecurity that she had never felt before. "Maliya?" Robb questioned softly, his voice still husky with desire. "Are you – "

His voice trailed away as Maliya swiftly and decisively removed her arms from the sleeves of the dress, which pooled at her feet. His eyes stayed on hers as she stepped over the dress towards him in just her shift, and she counted to five before he lost the battle with himself and his eyes strayed farther down, a line of fire following the path of his gaze.

Maliya fought the urge to cover herself, knowing that this shift didn't leave much to the imagination. She watched him step closer to her, a strange look on his face as he gently lifted the necklace out of her shift, the sun sitting in the middle of his palm. "You're wearing the engagement present that I gave you," he muttered, an odd tone to his voice.

"Yes," she murmured, tilting her head to the side as she watched him. "Ever since we agreed to start over." She was beginning to feel unnerved as he stared down at the necklace, his mouth parted. Shifting slightly, Maliya cleared her throat, his eyes jumping back up to hers. "You're wearing too many clothes," she told him in a low voice.

There was no trace of a smirk on his face as he gazed down at her, letting go of the necklace. "What would you like me to remove?" He asked, his voice quiet and rough.

She stepped closer to him, her eyes locked on his as she carefully helped him remove his doublet from his shoulders. If he noticed her shaking hands while loosening the ties to his tunic, he didn't comment on it. Her hands slid down to the edges of the tunic and she pulled it up, helping him slip it over his head so he could toss it to the side. Her eyes trailed over his chest for the first time, her hands following their path as they traced from his wide, broad shoulders, down over his soft chest hair. She felt his muscles rippling beneath her hands as she traced down to his defined stomach, and without thinking of it, Maliya leaned forward and pressed her lips to the center of his chest.

A gust of air escaped his lips at the touch, his hands coming up to tangle in her hair. He allowed her to pepper small kisses over his chest before with a rumbling growl, he pulled her face back up to hers, his lips and tongue even hungrier than before. This heat, this attraction between them deepened and expanded, their movements becoming more frantic.

Maliya's trembling fingers trailed down to the laces of his breeches and he had to pull away for a moment to step out of his boots before helping her tug them down, exposing himself before her. Mailya looked down, her eyes widening at his size. Trying to distract her, he lifted her chin with a finger and pressed a kiss to her lips, his hands slowly moving up to her shoulders, carefully shifting the straps so they slipped down her arms and her shift joined her dress on the floor. "Beautiful," Robb murmured, pulling back, his eyes drinking her in eagerly. "Mine," he growled, crashing his lips to hers in a long kiss before hooking one arm around her back, the other sliding down to one thigh as he lifted her into his arms.

She gasped as Robb tossed her on the bed, laughing breathlessly as she bounced. His blue eyes glittered almost predatorily as he crawled over to her, looking every inch of the Young Wolf at that moment as he settled between her legs, the firelight dancing off his handsome face. The nerves kicked back in as she felt his hardness pressed against her thigh, but Robb seemed to sense this and he lowered his head to effectively distract her with a kiss.

Robb didn't kiss her long, his lips returning to her neck, making her gasp once more. Maliya did her best to relax, just trying to enjoy the new and incredible feelings Robb elicited from her while exploring her body. She felt his hand trailing up from her hip and she gasped when he reached her breast, pulling back slightly to carefully watch her reactions with his darkened blue eyes to see what she liked and didn't like.

Maliya was bombarded with sensation, as he rolled the hardened nub between his fingers, his eyes locked on hers as he lowered his mouth to her other breast. Heat zipped through her to her core, a surprised moan wrenched from her throat, her eyes widening. He hummed appreciately against her, sucking and lavishing her with his tongue and her hands dove into her hair, keeping him in place.

She felt the heat rising within her and her hips involuntarily thrust forwards, seeking something she didn't understand. "Robb," she groaned helplessly, and she felt him let out a shaky growl at the sound. His free hand slipped down past her stomach to touch her tentatively. She didn't even notice how clumsy his fingers were as he explored her for the first time. He temporarily pulled his face away for a moment, his jaw clenching as he carefully slipped a finger inside her.

Her eyes widened, her lips parting on a gasp at the feeling, her body clenching around him as he began to pick up a slow rhythm, adding a second finger when her hips began to rock against his hand. Her hands clutched at the sheets beneath her, her chest heaving and her eyes clenching shut, her body tightening, her head tilting back.

"Maliya," Robb whispered softly, slowing his rhythm and causing her to whimper in disappointment. "Maliya," he called again, his voice demanding.

Huffing in frustration, Maliya pried her eyes open, drowning in the blue of his own. Once he was sure he had her attention, his fingers finally began to move again and Maliya was panting once more, her back bowing off the bed as Robb's thumb discovered a part of her body that Maliya hadn't known existed. Her eyes stayed on his, desperately hoping that he wouldn't stop again. "Please," she whimpered incoherently, sweat making her hair cling to her forehead and neck. She was on fire, desperately searching for relief and Robb groaned as he watched her. He picked up his pace, his thumb adding more pressure and she was breaking apart with a shocked, strangled cry, her entire body tensing, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Her limbs twitched as she finally floated back to herself, blinking dazedly as delightful twinges still occasionally zipped through her. Her gaze refocused, finding Robb looking down at her with wide eyes filled with awe and it sent another rush of warmth through her.

If this was what sex felt like than she didn't understand why she hadn't taken Arianne and Tyene's advice years ago, though a part of her wondered if it only felt like this because of the man she was with. Smiling lazily, Maliya raised her decidedly weak arms towards him and Robb obliged her, settling over her once more and allowing her to draw him in for another deep kiss. She felt the tension within his body, in the rigid way he held himself and the desperate way that he kissed her.

Gripping her thigh, he surprised her by rolling them over so she was straddling his stomach. She froze at the unexpected position, pulling down to look at him uncertainly. "It's alright," he murmured in a hoarse voice, his hands reassuringly moving up and down her thighs. "It hurts for girls for their first time," he explained at her perplexed look. "This way, you can control the pace and we can go however fast or slow that you want."

Maliya nodded hesitantly, placing her hands on his chest and lifting her hips. Robb helped her guide himself so that she was positioned above him, before placing his hands back by his sides and giving her total control. Taking a deep breath, Maliya lowered herself slightly, taking only the tip of him in until he hit her maidenhead when she paused. She knew she had two options. To go slow and handle the pain as it comes, or to get it over with all at once. Her eyes flickered to his, wondering what his reaction would be, before biting her lip and swiftly lowering herself onto him and taking him all in.

She dimly heard Robb's surprised, choked curse as she froze, grimacing and panting heavily against the sudden pain. Clenching and unclenching his jaw, nostrils flaring, he watched Maliya above him. "Are you alright?" He asked in a strained voice.

"I think so," Maliya panted. Truth be told, it wasn't as painful as she thought it was going to be. It wasn't entirely comfortable either because he was stretching her, but as she waited, it slowly began to fade. "Are you alright?" She asked him in concern, looking down at him.

Robb let out a shaky, breathless laugh, his hands coming up to lightly grasp her hips. "Oh, Princess, I can assure you, I've never been better," he told her in a deep voice.

Nodding and frowning slightly, Maliya looked down between them, carefully and slowly circled her hips, testing, and beginning to get used to the feeling of him inside her. A spark resonated inside her as she rolled her hips in a certain way, a reminder of the ecstasy that she had just experienced and her eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. She repeated the motion, lifting her hips off him slightly this time and finding she liked that even more.

"Maliya," Robb rasped, a warning tone to his voice that Maliya didn't register at first and she hummed in response to his voice. "Stop," he suddenly whispered frantically, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough leave bruises as he tried to still her movements. "Stop, stop, stop!"

"What?" Maliya asked in alarm, freezing as her eyes snapped open to look at him. "What's wrong?" His eyes were clenched shut and she was pretty sure that he wasn't breathing. She could feel his heart hammering against her hand at a pace that worried her. "Robb…?"

"Give me a moment," he ground out through gritted teeth, trying to get control of himself.

Maliya waited, hardly daring to breath let alone move a muscle until his eyes finally opened, so dark they almost looked black in the firelight. "Did I… did I do something wrong?" She asked, feeling the nerves return.

"No!" Robb answered hurriedly, letting out a breath. "Gods no, this is perfect, you're perfect! It's just that I'm already going to… and you're not…"

She caught on to his meaning at once and gave him a relieved smile, shaking her head. "It's alright, Robb, I don't mind. I didn't expect to – "

"We are married, Maliya, nothing is just about me anymore," he told her seriously. "I want us to experience this together." Maliya nodded, warmth spreading across her chest as his hands moved from her hips to frame her face capturing her lips once more, softly at first, before deepening it, their tongues meeting and withdrawing. Robb's hands trailed over every inch of her body, lingering here and there on spots that he had learned tonight, working her up once more until she was panting and trembling above him, desperately trying not to move over him.

"Robb," she breathed, shifting slightly and he swallowed harshly, nodding, wrapping his arms around her to hold her body close to his as her hips began to pick up speed. She desperately captured his lips again, her hands moving to either side of his head to hold herself up. He groaned against her mouth, hips thrusting to meet hers as he neared his end. She had to break away, resting her forehead against his as his breathed fanned against her face. His hand snaked between their bodies, fingers searching for that spot once more. Maliya's mouth opened in a silent scream as she broke apart again, unable to breathe. She was aware that moments later, his hips losing its rhythm, Robb's entire body tensed, a hoarse shout escaping his throat as he followed her over the edge.

When Maliya came back down to herself, feeling weightless, she found herself sprawled on top of Robb's body, her head on her chest. Blinking, she lifted herself up on shaky arms to see him watching her already, sweat plastering his curls to his forehead, a content smile on lips. "Was all this a name day present from you?" He teased, his hand lightly tracing up and down her bare back. "Because if so, it's the best one that I ever received."

"I guess I'm going to have a tough time topping this next year," Maliya chuckled breathlessly, wondering when her body would stop feeling both so light and so heavy at the same time. "Can we do that again?" She asked, hopefully.

Robb laughed, blue eyes twinkling as he watched her hide a sudden yawn. He pressed a sweet kiss to her lips before shifting her, tucking her to his side, one of her legs still tangled between his as he wrapped an arm around her back. "We can do that whenever and wherever you want, wife," he chuckled, pressing another kiss to her forehead. "But for now… just sleep."

"I'm not tired," she protested through another yawn. The exhaustion was sweeping over her swiftly, her body still feeling heavy and satisfied and combined with the feeling of Robb's fingers combing through her hair and his heart beating soundly under her cheek, she drifted off to sleep.

Her last coherent thought before she drifted off to sleep was that she was finally going to need the Moon Tea ingredients that her uncle had given her.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I hope that was alright for their first time and both of them stayed in character! The responses to whose POV were split pretty evenly, but I chose Maliya's because IgnisEtGlacies13 made a good point. From Maliya's POV it would show how much she has come to trust and respect Robb and I hope that came across in this chapter! Don't worry though, next chapter we'll have Robb's reaction to finally getting laid ;)**

 **On a more serious note, I'm looking for someone who really knows the politics and geography of GoT to help me out. I admit that I'm not the best at either and I really want to write accurate chapters as the War of Five Kings gets underway. So if you feel you can help me, leave me a review or PM to let me know!**

 **Next chapter: Robb's birthday, a conversation with Osha and the War of Five Kings officially starts (for Maliya anyway!) As always, if you have ideas or advice don't be afraid to let me know.**

 **Review, review, review!**

Boramir - Thanks for reviewing! I'm blown away and flattered that you can't think of any improvements lol hope you liked this chapter!

Guest 1 - Sorry, but we'll have a scene from Robb's POV next chapter! Thanks for your review!

guest 2 - I felt like I had to include Barristan, especially since he has a pretty large role in the show and books. Thanks for taking the time to review!

Deiron Lionheart - Glad you're liking the story so far, thanks for reviewing! I appreciated reading your thoughts on the chapter and I hope I can clear a few things up! I agree that her visits to the crypts won't go unnoticed, and we'll see some of that next chapter. Unfortunately, there was only one dragon egg intact when Maliya looked through the rubble, the rest were destroyed by the cave in. As for the other trinkets, they were vaguely described because the scene was from Maliya's POV and she isn't too interested in them at the moment. We might find out more about it later on! As for ice dragons, I don't know anything about them and would feel strange adding them in my story. As with any relationships, I wanted to show that everything isn't just all happiness, that they are still two separate people who won't agree on everything. As for Ned - we'll have to wait and see!

Guest 3 - I agree that the sexual portion is slower than usual. But given who Robb and Maliya are, I find it believable. Remember, Tyrion and Sansa never consummated their marriage because he was waiting for her to feel comfortable and trust him. Thanks for reviewing!

Guest 4 - Thanks for your review! We'll get Robb's POV next chapter!

Samantha - Thanks for reviewing! I appreciated reading your thoughts and I agree, couples argue and I feel like that's realistic to show.

louise - Haha your review made me laugh! Unfortunately there's not much I can tell you about either of those topics, I want it to be a surprise so you'll just have to wait and see!

Anna Na - I'm glad you liked the chapter! While I do agree that these past couple chapters were very relationship based, I felt it was necessary to build up their trust and understanding before the war really began - which is next chapter, so you don't have long to wait for more of the plot! I feel bad when writing the story sometimes, because Robb is this adorable trusting guy and Maliya is keeping some enormous secrets from him. As for being the Queen of Westeros.. it's an idea! I'll have to think more on it as we dive into the war. Hope you liked this chapter!


	12. Grave News

**Author's Note: Thank you SO MUCH for everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed my story, you guys are seriously amazing! Here's the next chapter, hope you guys like it!**

 **Special thanks to pawelp, sensfan90, ThatOneJin, and dhagans for being so helpful regarding the political/military aspect of this story, I will definitely put all your advice to good use!**

 **This chapter is unbeta'd as of now, so please keep that in mind! Don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think :)**

* * *

Chapter 12: Grave News

 **Robb's POV**

Slowly rousing from the most restful night's sleep he's had in years, Robb lazily blinked himself awake, rolling onto his side and propping an elbow up to hold up his head. He looked down at his still sleeping wife, sprawled on her stomach, her face turned away from him and the furs bunched around her waist, exposing her bare back to him. For once, he woke unaccompanied by worries of his father and sisters stuck in the South, or his mother's actions regarding Tyrion Lannister. Instead he woke with the incredibly pleasant memories of the night before.

He felt an involuntary smile curve his lips as he remembered the intoxicating way that she had kissed him, the extraordinary feel of her wrapped around him, her nails digging into his chest, the expression of rapture on her face as she fell apart above him. It had been better than he had ever imagined – and he had imagined it many, _many_ times – and it was an experience he wasn't like to forget for as long as he lived.

Unable to help himself, Robb stopped admiring his wife, leaning forward to press his lips to her bare shoulder. He felt her shiver, a content, sleepy sigh escaping her as he peppered kisses across her back. He brushed her hair back from her face as she turned to face him, blinking her eyes open and focusing on him. "Hi," she murmured, her voice still raspy from sleep.

"Morning beautiful," Robb greeted, returning her smile as her arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer for a kiss. She really was beautiful. Her features were delicate, making her look innocent almost, hiding both the strength in her limbs and her lethal fighting skills.

Her fingers played with the curls at the back of his neck. "I think I can definitely get used to waking up like this," she told him breathlessly as he kissed under her jaw. He felt his heart begin to beat faster as he shifted closer to her, running his hand along her side. She glanced down as he settled between her legs, her eyebrows raised. "And apparently, so can you," she grinned, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Can you blame me?" Robb murmured, nuzzling his wife's neck playfully, making her laugh and push his face away as his beard tickled her skin. "I mean, just look at you!" He pulled back to examine her appreciately, lifting the furs away from her body and making her roll her eyes and laugh again, the sound sending a rush of warmth through him. His hands trailed down her body again, using her thigh to hitch her leg around his waist. "Where are your daggers?" He asked curiously.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "I didn't think it was appropriate for what I… uh, what I was trying to do."

"You mean try and seduce me?" Robb teased.

Maliya's lips curled upwards. "No, I mean _successfully_ seduce you," she corrected, eyes twinkling. "I had you eating out of the palm of my hand. I could have told you to do anything – "

"Alright," Robb interrupted loudly, squeezing her sides and making her yelp. "What do you think, wife?" He murmured, lowering his face until their lips almost connected, appreciating the way her breath hitched and her smile faded. "Shall I return the favor?"

Her gaze flickered to his lips. "Do your worst, husband," she breathed, just before he captured her lips with his in a searing kiss that made a shiver of want dance down his spine. There was no slow build up this time around. Any tentativeness between the two of them from the night before was gone and all that was left was the heat and the attraction that neither of them had realized existed. He eagerly matched the passion with which she kissed him, her lips moving sensually and fluidly and making him damn near forget his own name. When she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, his hips involuntary thrust forward, rubbing against her and wrenching a deep groan from his chest. Robb swallowed her throaty gasp, breathing heavily as her hands tightened in his hair.

He kissed his way down her throat, enjoying her scent and the slightly salty taste of her skin. He lingered for a moment on her pulse rapidly fluttering in her throat, finding that her back arched when he did so, her breasts rubbing against his chest. Distracted, he shifted lower down her body, his hands coming up to cup them. He frowned, his thumb rubbing the heart shaped birthmark above her heart, something he hadn't noticed last night.

Still panting, Maliya looked down to see what was holding his attention. "It's just a birthmark," Maliya explained in response to his frown. "My mother said…. She said that it meant I was going to doubly love and be loved in return."

Robb's eyes flickered up to examine her expression, his frown deepening as he caught her morose and solemn tone. "Maliya, are you alright?" He prodded gently, concerned.

She shook her head as if to clear it, plastering a reassuring smile on her face. "I'm fine," she whispered, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks, her thumbs brushing back and forth as she lifted her head to press her lips to his. Her hips began moving again and Robb's eyes fluttered shut, his hands clenching in the sheets as she moved her lips to kiss along his neck before moving up to his ear. "I thought you were supposed to be the one seducing me?" She questioned, laughter clear in her voice.

Feeling affronted, Robb's eyes glittered as he swallowed her shocked cry, snapping his hips forward, easily sliding inside her. He himself had to stifle a surprised grunt - his memories of what this felt like did absolutely no justice to the actual experience, and he had to pause for a moment to regain control of his body. Once he was sure he wasn't going to embarrass himself so quickly, Robb began to move again.

He watched her face through his own pleasure filled haze, noting the way her breath hitched and whimpered as his strokes grew longer and faster, the unrestrained sounds spilling from her throat nearly driving him insane. He hissed in pain, burying his face in her neck as her nails raked down her back, her walls beginning to flutter around him. The pain mingled with the pleasure drove his hips even faster.

"Robb," Maliya gasped as her legs wrapped around him, allowing him to reach deeper inside her and causing her back to arch.

"I know," he moaned, lifting his head, knowing that she was close. He wanted to see her come undone before he did. He could easily become addicted to seeing her like this – spread out underneath him, chest heaving, muscles quivering, mouth open and eyes wide and glazed over with shock and ecstasy. Clenching his teeth in an effort to hold back, he felt a trickle of sweat run down his neck. Remembering the spot that he had found last night, Robb snaked a hand down between their bodies, searching. He knew he had found it when Maliya gave a startled cry, her legs tightening around him, her hips snapping up as she tumbled over the edge.

With the feel of her tightening around him and the look of awe in her wide, unfocused eyes, Robb was helpless to stop the telltale tingle at the base of his spine. He froze deep inside her, a low, disbelieving groan wrenched from his throat as white spots danced in front of his eyes, and for a moment, everything made sense: how far their relationship had come up to this point and everything they had to look forward to in the future. Then the intensity faded to a mind numbing bliss and Robb swayed slightly, before collapsing on top of Maliya, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. "Happy name day, husband," he heard her whisper tiredly.

He didn't know how long he lay there for, completely unaware of his surroundings, but after sometime he lazily opened his eyes, realizing his head was resting on her chest and her fingers were running soothingly through his hair. "Am I crushing you?" He asked in a low concerned voice, shifting so he could move off her.

"No, I'm alright!" Maliya assured him quickly, stopping him from moving. "You're not crushing me. It makes me feel…. Safe somehow," she admitted, chuckling in embarrassment.

Robb lifted his head, gazing down at her fondly. "You are incredible, Lady Stark," he whispered, smiling. His heart beat faster as she returned the smile, her hands moving to cup his cheeks as she pressed her lips to his in a slow, unhurried kiss. Robb sighed in contentment as she pulled away, rolling off her and bringing her with him so her head rested on his chest, her legs tangled with his.

"I have a brilliant idea," Maliya told him, eyes twinkling as she turned slightly so that her arms were resting on his chest, her chin on her hands as she looked at him. "I propose that we spend all day in bed," she murmured in a slow voice, fingers tracing a pattern through his chest hair. "My sister and my cousins have told me everything they know about sex." He watched, barely breathing, as she pressed her lips to his skin before trailing soft kisses up his neck before breathing in his ear, "I want to try them all out…. With you."

He shuddered as she gently bit his earlobe, heart racing as her fingers danced down his body to find the evidence of just how aroused her words had made him. His eyes fluttered shut as her hand moved over him seductively. "I think…" Robb had to pause to bite back a moan. "I think that might be the best idea you have ever had," he breathed before turning his head to devour her once more, both of them caught up in the insatiable desire between them.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

Several hours and a well-deserved nap later, a knock came at their door. "Who is that?" Robb asked in annoyance, wearily shifting so he was sitting with his back against the headboard.

Maliya put a hand on his chest to stop him from getting out of bed, making sure the furs covered his lower half before sliding out of the bed herself and wrapping the robe around her body. "I took the liberty of sending a few men to retrieve your name day present while you were asleep," she told him over her shoulder as she crossed the room to open the door. "You can put it in front of the fireplace," she instructed, stepping back to let the two men inside.

Maliya thanked the men and closed the door behind them. Only then did Robb slip out of bed, uncaring of his nudity as he curiously approached what they had delivered. "What is it?" He asked, circling the tall object covered with a large sheet, his brow furrowed. Maliya had to forcibly make her mind concentrate on his question instead of admiring his body and his confidence.

"Your name day present," Maliya told him again, wringing her fingers together nervously as she watched him. "I – I didn't know what to get you, everything else I thought of seemed both stupid and insignificant. I've been thinking a lot about what's been happening down south, and though this may seem like the worst-case scenario, I wanted you to be prepared, just in case something goes wrong and we have to help your mother. I thought you deserved something befitting the Lord of Winterfell." Sending her an intrigued look, Robb grasped a corner of the sheet and pulled it off, revealing what was underneath. It was a full-length suit of body armor encasing a practicing dummy, complete with the direwolf symbol stamped on the chest. "I designed it myself," Maliya continued to babble as he inspected it closely from all sides. "It took me awhile to grasp the armor style of the north, but I hope that you're happy with the results. The steel encases the obvious parts, like the shoulders and elbows, but the rest is the boiled leather that you northmen wear. I had them add my own little design as well, some hidden chainmail in important places such as the chest and stomach. In Dorne, it is too hot to wear such heavy armor so we have to become creative in ways to protect ourselves."

"You designed this?" Robb asked in a quiet voice, still not looking up at her.

"Yes," Maliya replied, feeling as if she was going to go out of her mind with anxiety. Unable to take it any longer, she blurted, "Well? What do you think? Do you like it? Because if you don't, you don't have to wear it – "

"Seriously?" Robb sputtered, gaping at her, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Maliya, this is the greatest gift that anyone has ever given me." He shook his head. "This must have taken weeks to make, it must have been expensive – it's too much."

"It's not enough," Maliya countered, disagreeing. "I couldn't think of a gift that would appropriately relate how grateful I am – "

"For what?" Robb interrupted, mystified.

"For being patient with me when I was being an uncaring bitch. For wanting to take the time to get to know me and for wanting to make this marriage work. I could never have imagined being lucky enough to marry into this family. I could never have imagined you."

Robb's blue eyes softened, a smile on his lips as he approached her, pulling her closer to him. "That sounded almost poetic, Princess," he teased in a light voice. He bent his face closer to hers. "I can't tell you how glad I am that you're stuck with me for life."

Maliya gave a fake sigh, her arms looping around his neck. "You are such a romantic," she teased sarcastically before he closed the distance between them and kissed her. Maliya could have easily become lost in the way his lips moved against hers, but she could tell that he was distracted. Pulling away, she sighed for real this time. "You want to try the armor on, don't you?"

"Yes," Robb admitted with a sheepish grin, a boyish twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, alright, come on then. I'll help you." Maliya watched in amusement as Robb nearly tripped over himself in his haste to put his small clothes on. She helped him buckle and lace each of the different parts of his armor, feeling the weight of his gaze on her as she did so. When she was finished she stepped back, tilting her head to the side as she surveyed him.

"How do I look?" Robb asked, one hand resting on the belt where his sword would go.

Maliya felt a rush of warmth swoop through her lower belly at the sight of him, and she shifted as she felt a tingling down below. He looked incredibly handsome with his bright blue eyes, strong and powerful like the Lord of Winterfell should be. "I'm going to need you to take it off," she told him brusquely, crossing her arms.

"What?" Robb's expression was bewildered. "I don't understand – "

" _Robb_ ," Maliya interrupted in a voice thick with want, and she wondered if he could see the fire in her body reflected through her eyes. "Take. It. Off."

* * *

Maliya hovered at the end of the corridor, peeking around the corner to where Robb, Maester Luwin and Theon were entering Robb's office. They had just received news that Tywin Lannister was invading the Riverlands, the home of Lady Stark's family, in response to her capturing his son. Robb and the others were currently discussing what to do; Maliya supposed that she could have pressed the issue and insisted she sit in on the meeting, but she knew Robb would tell her everything later tonight.

Besides, Maliya had more important plans for today. She had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to make the Moon Tea with the ingredients that her uncle had left her. Unfortunately, even though he had left explicit instructions, Maesters were the one's who usually made the Moon tea and they were the ones with the tools needed to do so.

Over the past couple days she had been watching Maester Luwin closely, trying to find a moment when he was away from his study long enough for her to sneak in and make the Moon Tea. Figuring she had at least an hour or two while the men talked, Maliya shifted her cloak to make sure it was fully hiding the box of ingredients she had under her arm and then turned, heading up to the Maester's tower.

Maliya safely made it up the stairs without anyone noticing anything suspicious. She knocked on the door, waiting a moment to make sure there was no one inside before opening the door. She carefully closed it behind her, hurrying over to the table and setting the box down, making sure to meticulous read each line of instructions. Not wanting to create some terrible concoction that would make her sick, Maliya measured out the ingredients, double and triple checking it before adding it to the mixture.

She muttered to herself as she stirred, looking back at Uncle Oberyn's list, worrying less about getting caught and more about the tea as she reached the last line. Shrugging, not sure what the tea was actually supposed to look like, Maliya poured herself a cup before putting the rest in a larger vial and corking it, slipping it into the pocket of her cloak.

She blew on the Moon Tea, cooling it down a bit before taking a tentative sip. It didn't taste terrible actually, and she figured that was due to the mint and the drop of honey. She continued to drink the Moon Tea, mentally planning how often she should drink it. At the rate her and Robb were going, she was going to need to drink the tea every couple of days or at least once a week.

Her mind drifted, the corner of her mouth lifting as she thought back to their most recent sexual encounter. She was still slightly sore from the position they had found themselves in, and there were some half healed scrapes on her back that she found mildly annoying.

The door to the study suddenly flew open, making Maliya jump and nearly drop her now empty cup of tea. She looked up with wide, panicked eyes to see the wildling woman standing in the doorway, a broom in her hand and chains still around her ankles. Maliya hadn't seen or talked to the taller, fierce looking woman since Robb had captured, questioned and then freed her to work as a servant in the castle. "This isn't what it looks like," Maliya stated automatically, blabbing the first thing that came to mind.

The wildling woman's expression showed no flicker of surprise at seeing Maliya, even though she wasn't supposed to be there. Her eyes moved to the ingredients that were still laid out on the table. "Tansy, mint, wormwood, honey, pennyroyal… we use similar ingredients for one specific reason beyond the wall," she commented as if she were making an everyday observation. "It looks like you're making Moon Tea."

"Then… it's exactly what it looks like," Maliya answered awkwardly, hurriedly putting the ingredients away in the box. Feeling the woman's eyes on her and hating like she felt like she was being judged, Maliya continued. "Listen…" She paused, realizing that she didn't know the wildling's name.

"Osha," the wildling supplied in a slightly bored voice.

"Listen Osha," Maliya began again, stuffing the ingredients and directions in the box and snapping it shut before cleaning up her mess. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm not in any way ready to become a mother. Gods, my own mother di – left us when I was young! Robb and I are just getting to know each other and when you add a child to the mix, it complicates things! Is it so wrong that I want more time alone with my husband? I personally don't think so, but everybody else probably would!" She could feel herself growing more and more agitated, knew that she was ranting to a total stranger and possible enemy, but she couldn't seem to stop the words from spilling out of her mouth. "I'm the _wife_ , the Lady of Winterfell, it is my duty to spread my legs and carry my husband's future heirs. Eventually people will assume that I'm infertile, they will blame me for not giving my husband children – he may even be forced to dissolve the marriage and find someone else!"

 _Besides… I'm out here for revenge, not to start a family_ , she added in her head as an afterthought.

Osha lowered her eyes. "I meant no disrespect Lady…whoever. I have no interest in why you're secretly taking Moon Tea, nor do I care about your problems. What the lady does is none of my business. I don't go saying things that aren't my business, I'm just here to clean the floors."

Maliya hesitated, searching the older woman's face, before realizing that for some reason she trusted that she wouldn't tell anyone. Nodding, Maliya hid the box back under her cloak and made to leave the room. "Why are you here?" Maliya asked, pausing in the doorway. "And I don't mean to clean the floors," she added, seeing Osha lift the broom. "Why were you and the others coming south? I don't know much about the Wall and what's beyond it, but I do know it's not that often that we encounter the Free Folk. It seems oddly coincidental that we ran into two wildling groups trying to attack us. So why did you come on this side of the wall?"

"Where are you from?" Osha asked instead, tilting her head to the side. "I've never seen someone with skin like yours before."

"I'm from Dorne," Maliya told her. At the other woman's blank look, Maliya went on. "It's on the southern coast of Westeros, where the sun is always hot and you can play in the clear waters on the shores."

Osha's expression suggested that she thought Maliya had just spouted something mystical and non-existant. "Then you could hardly understand, lady. That it gets so cold you feel as if you could freeze to death just by walking outside. That when the the Long Night comes, when things that normally sleep in the day come out to hunt at night… the north is no place for men to be living." Maliya felt a confused frown cross her face – she didn't understand a word of what Osha had just said. She opened her mouth to question her further, but Osha was apparently finished with the conversation. "Apologies, lady, I really should be getting back to work."

"Of course," Maliya muttered, still frowning, hesitating awkwardly before hurrying out of the Maester's tower, leaving more confused than when she had entered. She felt better know that she had made the Moon Tea, however. She supposed she would find out if she had made the tea correctly in a fortnight or so if she received her moon's blood.

* * *

"Are you feeling cold?" Opening a lazy eye, Maliya turned her head to the side and looked over to where Robb was lying on his side, his elbow on the ground to hold his head up as he twirled one of her curls around his finger. They were currently lying on a blanket that Robb had brought, the earthy smell of the trees invading her nose, the canopy of the trees partially covering the sky above her.

"I have you to keep me warm," Maliya commented lightly, grabbing his hand and bringing it to rest on her stomach, lacing their fingers together over the fur cloak covering her naked body. "I feel like they're watching me," Maliya whispered in a low voice, looking up around them. "Judging us for what we just did."

"Let them. Coming to the godswood to pray was the only respite I've had in the past few days," Robb explained, his blue eyes capturing her own. "It was the only time to truly spend time with you – "

"That didn't stop you from waking me in the middle of the night two days past, or from taking me in an alcove between your meetings," Maliya teased, raising an eyebrow.

Robb smirked down at her, one of his auburn curls falling over his forehead. "If I recall correctly, it was you who woke me in the middle of the night, my insatiable princess."

Maliya grinned up at him. Truth be told, ever since that first night they had been stealing every opportunity they had to be together. Sex with Robb was…. Everything that her sister and cousins had told her it would be and yet more, somehow. There was the overwhelming pleasure, of course, the kind that exploded through her entire body, the kind that made her eyes roll back into her head and left her a mess of shaking limbs.

But more than that, was Robb's reaction to her. It gave her a heady, powerful feeling, filled her with a fire each and every time they were together. The desperate way he grasped at her, the hunger in his blue eyes, the passion in his voice when he called her name as he finished inside her. She could listen to the noises she wrenched from him all day long.

"I suppose it's a blessing that we work so well together in bed," Maliya murmured, reaching up with her other hand to push his stubborn curl away from his forehead only for it to fall back in it's place. Her hand trailed down to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing his bottom lip. "It would have been terribly awkward if we had been getting on so well only for it to fall apart in bed."

"I knew we would work well together," Robb proclaimed, rolling closer to her in order to draw her in for a kiss. "How could we not?" He asked softly, kissing her once more before shifting onto his back, lacing his fingers behind his head. There was a moment of content silence between them. "Have you ever wanted to rule?" He asked.

Maliya frowned up at the trees when she heard the question. "Where did that question come from?" She inquired, brows furrowed.

"I'm the eldest, so I've always been in line to take over as Lord of Winterfell. But your sister is older than you are, and I know that things work differently in Dorne, so she could take over after your father. With all that has been going on recently, it's something I've been thinking about. Did you ever want to rule?"

Maliya sighed, contemplating his question thoughtfully. "Truth be told, it's not something that I have given much thought to since both Arianne and Quentyn are older than I." Even as Rhaenys she would never have been more than a princess. "But… no, I don't think I would want to rule as anything more than the Lady of Winterfell. Growing up, I've seen the toll that the burdens of ruling have taken on my father. He thinks of his people and his kingdom first and himself second. It weighs him down until I fear that one day he will sink through the floor."

"My father had the option to sit the Iron Throne and become King, you know," Robb told her in a quiet voice. "He himself never told me the story, but I've heard the rumors from men visiting Winterfell. When my father's men took King's Landing, he found Jaime Lannister sitting on the throne and made him give it up. He could have taken it for himself, but he never wanted it. He always said that he went to war for justice, for the deaths of his father and brother."

"I have a feeling that your father is one of the few good men left in this world," Maliya mused, turning her head to the side so that she could glimpse Robb's face and see the small smile there.

"I would believe it," Robb answered. He sighed, rubbing a weary hand over his face. "I wish my father were here, though if that were the case I suppose none of this would be happening. My mother would be here as well, she would never have taken Tyrion Lannister to the Vale, and Tywin Lannister wouldn't be attacking my mother's people. I wish I could know what my father would do in response."

"Your father raised you to be Lord of Winterfell, Robb," Maliya tried to assure him. "He groomed you to analyze situations and make the same decisions that he would make. He trusts you to do the right thing."

"I know," Robb said, his eyes meeting hers. "Plus, it helps knowing I have you beside me to advise me in case I do something stupid." He paused. "Can I ask you something, Maliya?"

"Of course," she nodded, hiding a frown at his hesitant tone.

"Maester Luwin mentioned something to me the other day that's been bothering me ever since. I've been trying to come up with a reasonable explanation but have come up with nothing. He says that he saw you coming out of the crypts a few times recently. I rarely go down there myself – what have you been doing?"

Maliya swallowed the panic that was threatening to climb out of her throat, willing her suddenly pounding heart to slow down as she struggled to the smile on her face. _I've been secretly going down there because of a strange pull and a letter from a mysterious person to try and hatch a dragon egg that I happened to find behind a secret passage near Cregan Stark's tomb._ She desperately wanted to say the words, to tell him this secret that she had been hiding, but to do so she would undoubtedly have to reveal other, bigger secrets and she just wasn't sure what his reaction would be. It was too big of a risk and would endanger both her, Robb and his family and her self-appointed mission.

"Truthfully, I've always been fascinated with your Aunt Lyanna," she told him, mind racing as she watched his eyebrows raise in surprise and confusion. She didn't know what he had been expecting but it obviously wasn't this. "I've been visiting her crypt, trying to make sense of it all. How could one woman capture the hearts of two powerful men?" She asked rhetorically, some truth creeping into her words. "She was betrothed to Robert Baratheon, but captured the attention of Prince Rhaegar who was already married with two children. How could one woman be so beautiful that one man abandons his family to abuct her and the other dissolves all of Westeros into war to win her back? There's a large part of me that wishes I could have met such a woman."

"As do I," Robb agreed, seeming to except her lie. Guilt twisted her stomach sharply, and she had to repeat to herself over and over again that she was doing this to keep him safe. "Father never talks about her, but people around Winterfell say she was intelligent, willful and hot tempered. They frequently compare Arya to the way Lyanna was when she was younger."

"Yes, your sister could be very spirited, couldn't she?" Maliya grinned fondly.

Robb shook his head with another sigh, putting a smile on his face. "Let us think of happier things," he said lightly, slipping under the fur cloak and covering his body with hers. Maliya grinned up at him, her hands moving up and down his back. Her body grew warm at the promise in his eyes. "I mentioned something about worshipping when I came out here," he murmured, pressing a kiss just under her jaw before pressing another on her throat. "I think it's time I worship the work of art that is my wife's body."

Maliya opened her mouth to speak but her breath caught as Robb's warm lips moved lower. Her eyes fluttered shut, shivering everytime he moved to a new patch of skin, the fire within her building as he leisurely took his time exploring and worshipping her body. Her hands tangled in his hair as he moved lower and lower, until he finally kissed her in a place that she hadn't known she wanted him to, and Maliya's back arched, holding onto some tendril of control as his talented mouth took her to places she had never been before.

* * *

Some time later, after another delicious session in one of her new favorite hot springs, Robb and Maliya had dried themselves as best they could, put on their clothes and were dashing back to the castle quickly, their wet hair dripping down their necks and making them shiver.

"Seven hells," Maliya cursed, lips chattering as they burst through the doors of the castle. Maliya snagged the blanket from Robb's arms, wrapping it around herself multiple times and bouncing on her toes in an attempt to warm herself up. " _Now_ I'm cold." He grinned at her antics, rubbing her arms up and down to bring some circulation back into them. "I cannot wait until we travel to my home in Dorne, so you can see what it is like to swim in a pool of water and not freeze to death when you get out."

"Oh, there's no reason to be so dramatic, Maliya, it's not that bad," Robb chuckled, slipping his around around her shoulders as they headed through the castle up to their bedchambers.

"Not that bad?" She repeated, aghast. "Robb, I think my hair is frozen – "

They both stopped walking and talking abruptly as they turned a corner and nearly ran into Maester Luwin. "What is it?" Robb asked immediately, recognizing the grave look on the Maester's face. "What's happened?"

Maester Luwin held up a small roll of parchment, the seal of Ned Stark visible even though the letter had already been opened. "There's been news from King's Landing," he told them, his words sending a shiver of foreboding down her spine. "Theon is waiting for us in the Great Hall, and I've summoned for Bran as well. He's old enough to hear this news."

Both Robb and Maliya shared an anxious look as they followed Maester Luwin down the corridor and to the Great Hall. Her mind raced as she thought about what the news could be. It wasn't good news, that much was for certain. What could the bad news be? Had something happened to Lord Stark? Or to Sansa and Arya? Her expression darkened. If Robert fucking Baratheon or the fucking Lannisters had done anything to any of them, she was going to…. Do what? She was stuck in the North and they were hundreds of leagues away, untouchable.

Theon's expression was carefree and nonchalant if a bit curious, and Bran looked confused and slightly nervous. Grey Wind and Summer were lounging on the floor, their heads in their paws. The rest of the Great Hall was empty and it wasn't until Robb and Maliya had seated themselves that Maester Luwin handed the letter over to him.

Maliya and the others apprehensively watched Robb read the letter, her stomach twisting as his expression changed. She actually saw his skin pale before flushing red, his blue eyes sparking with fury. "This is Sansa's writing?" He questioned with his eyes narrowed, his hand unconsciously crunching the parchment.

"It is," Maester Luwin confirmed, nodding once. "I taught her the letters myself."

"What is it?" Theon asked, leaning forward. His expression looked eager, which Maliya thought was strange given the tension in the air. "What did she write?"

"She says Father conspired at treason with the King's brothers, and is currently being held captive" Robb told them, scanning the letter again, his voice practically shaking with fury. "King Robert is dead and Mother and I are summoned to the Red Keep to swear our fealty to Joffrey."

The was an odd ringing in her ears, those first few words replaying over and over in her head on repeat. Robert Baratheon was _dead_. The man who killed her father was gone. Her emotions were torn – part of her was feeling a righteous triumph that he had finally gotten what he deserved and the other half felt empty that she wasn't there to witness the event. A million questions flitted through her mind. _How did he die? Did someone murder him as they murdered Jon Arryn? Was it painful? Did he see the end approaching and was he afraid of his judgement day?_

She dimly heard Robb continuing on. "She says we must remain loyal to the crown," he told them in a sarcastic, bitter voice. "That when she marries Joffrey, she will plead with him to spare our Lord Father's life."

There was a big gap in the letter, a piece of information that Maliya was still waiting to hear. "And Arya?"

"Nothing!" Robb cried, angrily tossing the letter on the table. "Not one word. Damn her!" He exploded, his fist crashing down and making them all jump. "What is wrong with the girl?"

"She lost her wolf," Bran protested weakly, his little face pale. "She's not thinking clearly."

Maliya's expression softened, forgetting again the unusually strong bond that the Stark children and their direwolves share. As if to prove her point, Summer was standing anxiously, making his way to Bran's side. Grey Wind, on the other hand, felt Robb's anger and fear and looked up at him, his lip lifted in a silent snarl. It wasn't until Robb passed an absent minded hand over the direwolves head that he calmed down.

The day that the guardsmen had brought Lady's bones had been a terribly sad day, especially for her brother wolves. Grey Wind, Summer and Shaggy Dog had howled for hours, their voices full of sadness and grief. They had buried Lady beneath the shadow of the First Keep, where there were headstones spotted with pale lichen. It was where the old Kings of Winter had laid their faithful servants.

Maliya picked up the letter, scanning through it. The wording sounded upbeat and pleasant despite the gravity of what she was talking about. "She keeps talking about how well she's being cared for by the Lannisters…" Maliya glanced at Maester Luwin with a raised eyebrow. "This letter wasn't Sansa's idea."

"No, I don't believe so either," Maester Luwin agreed.

"Joffrey put my father in chains and now he wants his ass kissed?" Robb's nostrils flared.

Maester Luwin gave him a pointed look. "This is a royal command, My Lord. If you should refuse to obey…"

Maliya felt her breath catch, feeling the enormity of this moment through every cell in her body as Robb's shoulders straightened. "I won't refuse. His Grade summons me to King's Landing, I'll go to King's Landing. But not alone. Call the banners, Maester Luwin," Robb declared, wiping his face of any emotion. Maliya's eyes widened at his words, and she was pretty sure that she saw Theon's lips twitch up into a smirk.

"All of them, My Lord?" Maester Luwin asked in a quiet voice.

"They have all sworn to defend my father," Robb answered. "The Lannisters have wrongfully imprisoned him. Now we will see what their words are worth."

Maester Luwin bowed his head before turning and walking off. There was a long moment of silence after he left, and it was actually Bran who broke the silence. "Robb…" he said in a small voice. "Your hand is shaking."

"So it is," Robb murmured, looking down at it before clenching it into a fist.

"Are you afraid?" Theon asked, his gaze piercing.

"I must be."

"Good," Theon answered immediately. "That means you aren't stupid."

Maliya put a hand on Robb's arm, trying to sympathize with what Robb must be going through at this moment, while trying to wrap her mind around the fact that their family and the rest of the North will be going to war against the Lannisters. "We're behind you, Robb," she reassured him, Theon nodding his support on Robb's other side. "We'll be here for whatever you need."

* * *

 **Author's Note: So there it is! A bit shorter than my usual chapters, but don't worry, the next couple are my usual length. Please leave a review to let me know what you thought about it.**

 **I also have a question for you guys! How do you think Maliya's presence with change the course of the war? What would you guys like to see happen differently from what happened in the show or the books?**

 **Next chapter: Robb prepares and leaves for war, Catelyn meets up with Robb and a special scene with Varys and Ned.**

Michael - Thanks for the review, and I'm so glad you liked the chapter! Unfortunately, regarding that matter Maliya isn't thinking much about anyone but herself and that may end up having disastrous consequences!

Boramir - I'm not sure if Maliya realizes just how much Doran has influenced her style of thinking and approach to life yet, but you're definitely right! As for the direwolves during the ambush scene, I chose to focus more on the show's version of the attack, and there were no direwolves present there either. Thanks so much for always reviewing consistently!

Guest 1 - Thanks so much! Everybody's first time is a little different, but I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Samantha - I'm so glad you liked the chapter! I hope you enjoyed Robb's POV and as to that question - you just have to wait and see!

louise - Maliya and Theon's friendship has developed in a surprising way for me, but your description is dead on! Haha that story made me laugh! I'm glad you enjoyed the scene and I hope the lady behind you did as well :) What kind of political intrigue are you excited for?

Mirakiayah - Even if it's way to early or late to be reviewing, thanks for doing it anyway! I appreciate the compliments :)

Guest 2 - Thanks for your review, glad you liked it!

Marvelmyra - Thanks for all the advice! I will definitely remember it while writing the next few chapters!


	13. Assumptions and Regret

**Author's Note: Woohoo, another fast chapter! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed this story – special thanks to Maddie Rose for reading through it, and to Dannylionthe1st and pawelp for answering all my questions!**

 **This chapter is both rated M and an emotional roller coaster, so buckle your seats belts ladies and gentlemen.**

* * *

Chapter 13: Assumptions and Regret

Winterfell was more crowded than Maliya had ever seen it, even more so than when King Robert had come to visit. There were strangers everywhere she went; littering the hallways, out in the training yards, the ringing of steel echoing across the grounds, and the constant chorus of noises coming from the stables. Due to the fact that there were now so many people around, Maliya felt that it was too risky to sneak down to the crypts for a few days.

While part of her was annoyed by the fact, she was being kept too busy to think on it much. She was meeting each of the bannermen, their sons and their knights, making sure that their rooms were ready and they had everything they needed. The Karstarks were the last to arrive, but Maliya had already met the Glovers, the Mormonts, the Boltons, the Hornwoods, the Cerwyns, the Tallharts and of course, the Umbers.

They hosted with each of the Lords of the North and their men in turn, in feast after feast, Maliya seated on Robb's one side and Bran on the other. Robb had seemed to transform in the short time since his bannermen had been here, but it was a necessary change that Maliya understood completely. These men might have answered his call, but it came with strings, things that they requested and asked for in return for their loyalty. As the acting Lord of Winterfell, Robb had to put on his "lord" face, his eyes cold and forbidding as he dealt with these men in a way that bent them to his will without offending them.

The only time she saw Robb alone anymore was when he came stumbling to bed late at night, exhausted and drained, with only enough energy to pull her close before he immediately drifted off to sleep. She missed him, which she knew was both ridiculous since he was right there in front of her and selfish since he was going through all this to protect and save his family.

Everything Robb had been planning, all the negotiations that he had been through had been leading up to this one last feast, the one where he hosted each of the Lords of the North in the Great Hall. Soon, they would be marching South.

Maliya, sitting on Robb's right, watched the men loudly interact around her, the smell of wine and sweat thick in the air. Bran sat across from her, quietly picking at his food, Theon on his other side. She watched Bran in concern, eyeing the men around him darkly. She heard the terrible things that they were saying about his disability and she had already stepped in more than once on his behalf.

"For thirteen years, I've been making corpses from men, boy!" Maliya looked down at the other end of the table, where Lord Umber was talking loudly, his voice carrying through the Great Hall and catching the attention of the other men. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Robb's hand clench into a fist on his thigh and knew that he hated to be called 'boy' when he was the Lord in charge of all these other men. "I'm the man you want leading the Vanguard!"

Robb's jaw flexed as he said in an even voice, "Galbert Glover will lead the Van."

Maliya was taken aback by the fury that shone in the Greatjon's eyes and she tried to hide her confusion. This was the man who had made her genuinely laugh on her wedding night, who had invited them to his home for his own sons wedding. Was this change in attitude all because of pride? "The bloody Wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover. _I_ will lead the Van or I will take my men and march them home!"

Maliya's eyes widened as the men throughout the Great Hall hushed in response, all of them turned towards Robb to see what his reaction would be. Maliya held her breath, eyes flickering to Robb as the Greatjon openly challenged him and prayed that he would play this in a smart way. Robb put elbows on the table, his hands laced under his chin. His voice was calm but his eyes were hard as ice. "You are welcome to do so, Lord Umber," he began, his quiet voice easily heard throughout the rest of the hall. He stood, bracing himself against the table as he stared down at Lord Umber. "And when I am done with the Lannisters, I will march back North, root you out of your Keep and hang you for an oathbreaker."

Maliya's hand twitched toward the dagger hidden under her skirt as the Greatjon's face twisted. Her entire body was tensed, willing and waiting to see if it was going to be necessary to use it in order to protect Robb. Grey Wind, who had been calmly lying between both her and Robb, tensed as well, his head lifting as he looked towards his master.

"Oathbreaker is it?!" The Greatjon roared, leaping to his feet so quickly that his chair fell crashing to the floor. "I'll not sit here taking insults from a boy so green he pisses grass!"

Both Maliya and Theon hurriedly stood in alarm as the Greatjon actually reached down to unsheath his sword, but before they could do anything, Grey Wind let out a vicious snarl as he sprang up onto the table, swiftly running across it and sinking his teeth into the Greatjon's sword hand, knocking the larger man flat on his back. She couldn't see what was happening, exactly, but his screams rang loudly in her ears.

Half a second later, Grey Wind came trotting back to Robb's side, and it wasn't until Maliya looked down that she realized he had dropped two of the Greatjon's fingers at his feet. "My Lord Father taught me that it was death to bare steel against your liege lord," Robb announced in that same calm voice as the bigger man struggled to his feet, his other hand holding the stumps where his fingers used to be, the blood flowing freely. "But doubtless the Greatjon only meant to cut my meat for me."

With a savage growl, the Greatjon kicked his chair across the room as he finally stood upright. "Your meat?" He snapped in a booming voice, pausing when he realized every other man was on his feet as well, his eyes flickering around the room. "…is bloody tough," he finished, gesturing to his hand.

Maliya watched incredulously as the Greatjon began to laugh, her wide eyes turning to Robb as he joined in a moment later, setting off the entire damn hall. The only other one not laughing was Bran, who was looking particularly confused. Maliya sat heavily, shaking her head as Bran looked to her as if to say, 'I have no idea.'

The tension within the Great Hall disappated with the laughter and all the men sat down again and resumed eating and drinking. Robb absentmindedly put a hand on Grey Wind's head as he lay down once more at his feet. "What?" Robb asked, frowning as he looked over to her.

"Nothing," Maliya responded softly shaking her head, a small smile on her face. She leaned closer to him, her arms on the table as the sounds of the men talking around them faded into the background. "Have you found time to speak to Rickon yet?"

Robb sighed, looking regretful. "I tried to, earlier in the day, but I fear he's avoiding me. I'm worried about him. We march South tomorrow, and he's acting so wild, so unlike himself."

"He's young, Robb, he doesn't understand," Maliya pointed out sympathetically. "If it helps, I can try and speak with him."

"That would help," Robb told her in relief, his eyes grateful. "There is so much planning still to do, so much that needs to get done."

"I understand," she smiled. "I'm happy to help. Listen, your father would be proud of you, Robb," she told him softly. "Look around at what you've managed to accomplish so far, you've brought all these men together to share a common goal, and you're going to lead them all. I know that I'm proud of you." She leaned closer to him, her eyes glittering. Her hand disappeared below the table, her fingers covertly dancing up his thigh, grinning as she coaxed a noticeable reaction from him, his blue eyes blazing. "Maybe I can show you just how proud I am," she breathed teasingly. "The feast seems to be dwindling down. Think you can spare a few minutes of your time?"

Robb's head tilted to the side, eyeing her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "I think I can. I've never looked forward to anything more, Princess."

* * *

Maliya waited impatiently in the empty storage room, peeking through the door and wondering what in the Seven Hells was taking her dear husband so long. She had left the feast, making up some excuse and leaving strict instructions for Robb to follow her a few minutes later, but it was taking longer than she thought it would.

"Finally," she muttered in relief, snagging his arm as he passed by the door and yanking him into the room. He made a startled noise, which was muffled as she hungrily captured his lips, her hands fisting in his shirt to pull him farther into the room, kicking the door shut and pushing him up against it forcefully. Robb groaned appreciately at her eagerness, one arm snaking around her lower back to pull her up against him, the other blindly fumbling with the laces at the back of her dress.

The intensity and tension between them flared to life at an absurd rate, driven higher by the fact that it seemed so long ago that they found time to be alone like this.

Her arms wound around his neck, moaning as his tongue met hers when he deepened the kiss. Robb responded enthusiastic to the noise, pushing off the door and blindly stumbling further into the room, spinning her so that she was pushed against the wall this time, her breath escaping her in a rush. His hands were everywhere, fisting in her hair, clutching her hips, cupping her breasts. Maliya's mind was spinning, her whole body alight, her breathing heavy.

"Fuck," Robb whispered huskily as he suddenly pulled away, his eyes closed as his forehead pressed against hers.

"What's wrong?" Maliya panted in concern, her hands still tangled in his hair as she struggled to focus.

"Nothing," he assured her, his blue eyes so dark they were almost black. "Just need a minute to get control again, otherwise I'm pretty sure I'll fuck you through this wall."

His words sent a shiver of lust dwn her spine. " _Nyke Jaelan ao. Tolvie hen ao_ ," she murmured, eyes searching his.

"You have no idea what that language coming from that pretty mouth of yours does to me," Robb told her in a deep voice, fingers still gripping her hips. "That's Valyrian is it not? What did you say?"

"I want you," she repeated, thumbs brushing either side of his neck. "All of you. The sweet man who took care of me on that first night, the playful man I secretly know you to be and the Lord of Winterfell that takes care of everyone around him. But I know that you've been holding back on me, I can feel it. I'm not some fragile girl, Robb, you can be rough with me. I want to know every side of you. Show me," she murmured, pressing her lips to the underside of her jaw before pulling back to search his face.

She could see the effect that her words had on him, the spark of intrigue and want in his eyes as he pictured taking her like she suggested, before he shook his head. "You are a princess, Maliya, you deserve better – "

"Everything is better with you," she interrupted insistently. An idea sparked in her mind and she leaned forward once more to whisper in his ear. " _Ao issi_ _ñuhon._ " She nearly grinned as she felt Robb release a shaky breath, his eyes closing again. " _Sîr, Robb, kostilus._ "

She knew she had him when he practically growled low in his chest, losing control of his restraint as he pushed her against the wall again and kissed her, hard. His movements were almost feral as he savagely kissed his way down her throat, pulling at the front of her dress, pulling it down just far enough for her breasts to spring free to that he could devour them as well. She cried out in surprise when his teeth gently nipped her, her hips pushing forward as a white-hot heat shot through her.

Unable to take it anymore, feeling slightly desperate, her hands slid down his chest to hurriedly undo the laces of his breeches, even while his own hands frantically pulled up her skirts, exposing her dagger safely sheathed in it's holster. He paused, looking down at it. "Fuck," he muttered hoarsely, pulling her small clothes down and grabbing her thighs, lifting her against the wall as her legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands had finally freed him and he froze once more, posied at her entrance, his eyes dark and glittering, his jaw clenched.

" _Kostilus,_ Robb, please, please," she whimpered, the anticipation nearly killing her.

"Hold on, Princess," he breathed, before thrusting his hips forward, sliding into her easily and making them both moan. Robb gave her no time to adjust, even if she didn't need it. Her nails dug into his shoulders as his hips snapped forward, fast and hard, his movements frantic and his eyes wild. Maliya met him thrust for thrust, hardly able to breathe. She had never felt like this. All the passion, the desire, the affection. She felt as if she were going to break apart into a million pieces and spontaneously combust at the same time.

Robb's mouth crashed into hers once more as they both rapidly neared their inevitable end. He lifted her higher against the wall, reaching deeper inside her while one hand snaked between their bodies, his thumb getting to work and that was it. Her legs clamped into a vice around his waist, drawing him in as deep as he could go, her back arching and her teeth clenched to muffle the raspy whine that threatened to escape as she was thrust over the edge. Her eyes rolled back into her head as her body pulsed and twitched, but she was dimly aware of the death grip Robb had on her hip and thigh as he cried out hoarsely into her neck, his body shuddering under her hands.

They were both panting heavily as they floated down from their high. Maliya breathlessly laughed, her head leaning against the wall as she felt Robb's lips at her neck. "Gods. That was…"

"Incredible," Robb murmured, pulling back to look at her, brushing her damp hair from her face as she hummed her agreement.

"Sex against the wall, another first for us," Maliya grinned, noting for the first time that they had moved so quickly that neither of them were fully undressed, they had only removed the necessary pieces of clothing that were in their way. "And one that we're definitely going to have to keep in mind. You know, it's too bad that the tents we're going to be staying in don't have sturdy walls when we march South. Then we won't have to wait – "

"What?" Robb interrupted in confusion, pulling back with a frown. "What do you mean?"

Maliya rolled her eyes. "Walls are sturdy, Robb, they can hold us up, but tents aren't made like that, so we wouldn't be able to experience this again – "

"Not that," Robb interjected again impatiently. "The part where we march South."

Now it was Maliya's turn to frown. "I don't know where you've been, but you called the bannermen and now we're about to march off to war – "

"Maliya, you are _not_ marching to war with us," he told her in a voice that suggested that should have been obvious.

Maliya's heart nearly stopped in her chest, her eyes widening as she repeated the words in her head to make sure she heard them correctly, before they narrowed dangerously. She pushed against him, forcing him to release his hold on her and allowing her to slide down the wall and stand on still shaky legs. She hurriedly fixed her clothing as Robb tucked himself back inside his breeches and laced them. She felt as if a cold bucket of water had been thrown over her as she was abruptly pulled from her pleasure filled haze. "Explain," she snarled dangerously.

He looked down at her incredulously. "I shouldn't have to!" He cried, throwing up his hands. "You are my _wife_ , you are the Lady of Winterfell while my mother is away, and I need you here taking care of Winterfell and Bran and Rickon!"

"I am not going to let you leave me behind Robb!" She replied roughly, crossing her arms. "I'm coming with you."

"No, you are not," Robb retorted, further inciting her anger as his blue eyes flashed. "War is a place for _men_ , Maliya, it's too dangerous for you to be out there – "

"I can protect myself!" Maliya interrupted, her voice unconsciously rising into a shout. "I am a better fighter than half your men, a better fighter than you! You can't leave me here just because I am a woman!"

"Fine!" He yelled, the original tension between them morphing into something dark and toxic. "Then did it occur to you that we've been having sex so many times over the past month that you may be carrying my child? I am not going to risk endangering both you and my child – "

He was interrupted as Maliya let out a scream of frustration, unable to believe that this was one of his reasons when she knew there was no chance that she was pregnant. "That's your excuse?" She snapped, her fists clenching. "A 'maybe?' A 'what if?' What happened to us being in this together, Robb? What happened to us being partners? I would hate to have to stay behind, not knowing where you were or whether you were alive or dead!"

"I am not going to risk losing you at all, and that's final!" Robb shouted, his voice echoing throughout the storage room. "In case you have forgotten, I am the Lord of Winterfell and you are not marching South with us."

Maliya's nostrils flared as she struggled to contain her temper and her incredibly strong urge to hit him. "And in case _you_ have forgotten, I am a Princess of Dorne and technically my rank is higher than yours."

Robb stared at her for a long moment before his face went blank, his blue eyes hard as ice as he transformed into 'Lord Robb' before her eyes. "I am your husband, _Princess_." Robb's voice was as hard and restrained as the rest of him. Whereas her fury was a fire swirling around her, his was of ice, cold and immovable. _Of fire and ice_ , she thought absently. _A Targaryen and a Stark._ "And as your husband, I am saying that you are to remain here with Bran and Rickon."

"Is that an order, _husband_?" She spat, nearly vibrating with the strength of her rage.

"Yes," he answered brusquely, straightening to his full height, looking imposing. "That is an order, _wife_."

Glaring at him, Maliya bit the inside of her cheek so hard that she tasted blood as she struggled to gain control of herself. Finally she took a deep breath and blinked, smoothing out her expression to match his, hiding her anger, frustration and the small part of her that hated him in this moment. They were no longer Robb and Maliya standing there in that storage room. Instead they were Lord Robb and Princess Maliya and she was left wondering how things had suddenly changed so quickly.

Not wanting to say anything that she would regret and unable to stand the sight of him, Maliya inclined her head toward him. "As you wish, My Lord," she answered emotionlessly before calmly turning on her heel, closing the door behind her and leaving him alone in the storage room.

Maliya strode blindly down the corridors, not paying attention to where she was going. She couldn't ever remember feeling this angry in her entire life. Robb, someone she had come to care for and to trust, was leaving her in the cold and bitter north. He was abandoning her all because she was a woman, because she needed to stay behind to care for his little brothers. She loved Bran and Rickon, but given the choice, she would rather be at Robb's side, fighting to free his father. Doing something instead of freezing her arse up here.

She wanted to rage and scream at the unfairness of it all. She wanted to punch someone or something until her fists were bloody and her muscles were exhausted. She wanted to shake Robb, to force him to see her side of this argument and to make him change his mind.

She did none of these things, however. Instead, she found herself outside the chambers of the one person who wasn't at the feast right now, someone who she felt would make her feel better. She knocked on the closed door, leaning close. "Rickon? It's me, Maliya. Can I come in?"

A low growl answered her request, followed by Rickon's small voice. "No, Shaggydog, it's only Maliya! Down, Shaggy." The door opened and Maliya looked down to see Rickon's bright eyes peering up at her. "What do you want?" He asked in a petulant voice, pouting at her.

Alright, so apparently he wasn't happy with her either. She put her hands on her knees, bending down to his level. "I have come to beg your forgiveness, Rickon Stark," she told him in an honest, if slightly exaggeratory voice. "I have been terribly busy and I'm sorry that I haven't made time to see you lately."

Rickon contemplated her for another minute before opening the door further and letting her in. She closed the door behind him as he padded back to his bed, dressed in his night clothes. Shaggydog followed him, curling up at the foot of the bed, his eyes following Maliya as she crossed the room. She hesitated, unsure just how angry Rickon was with her, but she felt a great sense of relief as he patted the bed next to her expectantly.

Smiling at him, Maliya sat with her back against the headboard, feeling her anger drain out of her as he lifted her arm and curled against her side. "You know, you scared everyone when you disappeared the other day," Maliya murmured softly, rubbing his back. "Especially Robb. I was so frightened that it took me a long time to remember you like to hide in the crypts. And then when Shaggydog attacked those guards…"

"I know, he shouldn't have done that. But I just didn't want Robb to go! Mother and Father have already left and now Robb is too, and none of them are ever going to come home!"

Maliya stared down at him in surprise. "And why would you think that?" She asked, aghast.

"I overheard Bran talking to Old Nan the other day," Rickon explained, his voice thin and sad. "He said Aunt Lyanna and Grandfather Rickard and Uncle Brandon had gone South with men and they never came back. Now Father, Arya and Sansa are gone, and Mother and Jory and Ser Rodrik. They haven't come back yet and now Robb is going too! He's going to fight and he might – he might – " Rickon's voice caught on a sob and Maliya's heart nearly broke as she saw tears streaming down his face.

"Oh, little man," Maliya whispered, pulling him into a tight hug, brushing his unruly curls back to press a kiss to his forehead. "Do you understand why Robb is marching South to fight?"

Rickon sniffled. "Because of Father."

"That's right," Maliya murmured gently. "Some bad people have taken your father prisoner, as well as Sansa and Arya. Robb is going to free them, he's going to bring them back home. Can I tell you a secret?" He nodded, looking up at her with wide eyes so full of trust. "I'm scared too, Rick. It's hard being the one that's left behind, but Robb needs us to be strong. He just wants to be certain that we're going to be safe." While she knew the words were true, they tasted like ashes in her mouth. Strangely enough, she knew the words that would make Rickon feel better, but they didn't seem to apply to her.

"Everybody always leaves," he whispered brokenly. "Promise me you won't leave, Maliya. Promise me."

Unfortunately it didn't seem like she had a choice in the matter. It wasn't as if she could hide in a weapons wagon and follow Robb South. "I promise, Rick. I'm not going anywhere." She rubbed his back soothingly as he snuggled deeper into her side, his eyes falling shut as he drifted off to sleep. The anger had officially left her body, for the moment at least, and she realized she had been right, Rickon had made her feel better. Making the decision not to move in case she woke him, Maliya felt the exhaustion of the fight and the past couple days catching up with her. Not wanting to face Robb again tonight, Maliya followed Rickon into a troubled slumber.

* * *

Maliya spent most of the next day with Bran and Rickon as Robb and the other men finished packing everything for the trip. Robb was overseeing all the preparations and was most likely too busy to seek her out and talk about their fight, not that Maliya minded. She was still too upset and stubborn and hurt to deal with him at the moment, but before she knew it her dealine was up.

Robb and the other men had agreed that it was best to leave in the middle of the night because the Lannisters had spies everywhere. Which was why Maliya was standing besides Robb's grey stallion in the middle of the night, Grey Wind waiting at her side. She shivered, rubbing her hands up and down her arms in an attempt to keep herself warm. Maester Luwin also stood by her side as they waited for Robb to come back from saying goodbye to Bran and Rickon, holding a torch in the air.

Maliya couldn't help herself from carefully searching his face as he finally emerged. "How did it go?" Maester Luwin asked in concern.

"About as well as to be expected," Robb answered, passing a weary hand over his face. "Bran was taken aback, but he stayed strong and seemed to understand. Rickon, on the other hand, let me say goodbye, but wouldn't look at me or respond in any way."

Maliya frowned as she heard this, sorrow passing through her. She had just spoken to Rickon last night and he had seemed better after their talk. She knew how much this would have hurt Robb, and the additional weight that would fall on his shoulders knowing he was leaving them like this.

"He'll come around, he just needs some time to process what is happening,," Maester Luwin assured him. He held out his hand with a grim smile. "Safe travels, My Lord. Make sure to write every so often."

"I will, thank you Maester Luwin," Robb said gratefully, shaking the other man's hand. "Look after my brothers." Maester Luwin nodded and excused himself to say farewell to Theon.

Robb turned to her warily and Maliya was suddenly slammed with an onslaught of emotions. Anger, uncertainty, betrayal, reluctance, affection, hesitance and a staggering amount of fear. She didn't want him to go, she wanted to go with him, she wanted to punch him and she wanted to kiss him. "So this is it," she said awkwardly, hating this distance between them.

He stepped closer to her, looking around to make sure they wouldn't be overheard. "Where have you been? You've avoided me all day and you never came back to bed last night. Where did you sleep?"

"I was talking with Rickon and accidentally fell asleep. He was pretty upset about you leaving, but I thought I had managed to calm him down. I'm sorry he didn't say goodbye to you." Maliya crossed her arms under her cloak, feeling incredibly uncomfortable as she looked at some point over his shoulder.

"I hate this," Robb blurted suddenly, looking distraught. "We've come so far, Maliya, we've grown so much and now – "

"And now you're leaving me behind," Maliya finished heatedly, her narrowed eyes finally meeting his own. "Look at this from my point of view, Robb. I am the one marching off to war and you are being left to look after Bran and Rickon, even though you are just as skilled fighter as any of the men in your army, even more so, in fact. But you're being left behind all because you wear a skirt and don't have a cock between your legs."

She thought she saw his lips twitch at her choice of words, but it was gone the moment her eyes narrowed. "I would hate it," he admitted in a soft voice, his eyes focused on her completely. "I would feel helpless and anxious and worried not knowing where you were and if you were okay - "

"Exactly - " Maliya cried triumphantly.

"But it doesn't change anything," Robb continued in a hard voice. "I don't want to argue again, Maliya – "

"Then just let me come with you – "

"No!" He interrupted furiously, blue eyes flashing even in the night, looking angrier and more frustrated as the seconds passed, even though he insisted that he didn't want to fight. "I need you to be here, I need to know that you are safe – "

"But why, Robb, I don't understand – " Maliya cried in exasperation, throwing up her hands.

"Because you are my wife and I love you!" Robb practically shouted at her, breathing heavily. He shut his mouth abruptly, looking shocked as if he hadn't meant to say those words at this moment. Maliya froze, eyes wide and mouth partially open. She was aware of Robb's eyes searching her face expectantly, but her brain had stuttered to a halt. She couldn't think straight, she couldn't analyze what she was feeling at the moment except for a feeling of panic and confusion. She should feel happy about this, shouldn't she? Isn't this what every girl and every wife wanted?

Except a part of her felt as if this were some surreal experience, as if she were a third party observer looking in.

"Come on, Robb, we're about ready to move out!" Theon called, mounting his horse.

Robb ignored him, still looking at Maliya intently, now looking slightly anxious. "Maliya?" He prodded gently.

Maliya knew what he wanted her to say, but she couldn't wrap her mind around what was happening, she needed more time to think! "I – " she stammered, shaking her head, feeling trapped. "I don't – " Robb's expression shuttered at her not so eloquent response, but not before she could see the flash of deep hurt that flickered across his face. Her stomach twisted terribly at the pain she was causing him, as she watched him straighten and physically take a step back, forcing a brave smile on his face. If she thought there had been a distance between them before, it was even bigger now. "Robb," she began again, not knowing what to say. She made to take a step forward but stopped at the look on his face.

"I'll write you as often as I can," he told her in a distant voice, as if he didn't hear her speak. He hesitated, looking painfully torn before stepping forward once more to press a soft kiss to her cheek. Maliya's eyes closed at his nearness, as his scent of winter and woods invaded her, but all too quick he was gone. "Goodbye, Maliya," he murmured, looking at her sadly for a moment before turning to his horse and gracefully mounting.

Maliya looked down as Grey Wind nudged her hand, whining softly. Swallowing the thick lump in her throat, Maliya knelt to his level, running her hand over his fur before hugging him gently around the neck. "Keep him safe, Grey," she whispered. Grey Wind lightly licked her cheek as she pulled back and she chose to think of that as his promise to do so.

She stood once more, lacing her fingers in front of her as her eyes found Robb. He was already watching her with an unreadable expression on his face, nodding to her once before turning his stallion's reins and joining his men, riding through them to the front, Grey Wind easily keeping pace at his side.

"Goodbye, Robb," Maliya whispered as she watched his men fall in behind him, the sound of hooves echoing loudly through the darkness. She stood there for a long while, long after the gates of Winterfell had closed, long after Maester Luwin had bid her goodnight. She didn't think it was possible, but she felt even worse now than she did last night.

Her thoughts and emotions were roiling around inside her, but there was one question that kept floating to the forefront of her mind. Did she love him?

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

Robb stood with his hands braced against the table, surveying the map in front of him. He could feel his bannermen surrounding him, watching him and waiting, judging him. "The Riverlords are falling back, with Jaime Lannister at their heels. And Lord Tywin is leading a second Lannister army from the South. Our scouts confirm that it is even larger than the Kingslayers."

The Greatjon drew himself in his chair. "One army or two," he scoffed, looking around impressively. "The Kings in the North threw back armies ten times as large." Robb blinked as the Greatjon suddenly stood and bowed his head respectfully, looking at something over his shoulder.

Robb turned to see what had caught his attention and was abruptly slammed with several emotions. "Mother," he murmured in a voice thick with emotion. He actually took a step forward toward her, feeling as if he were a young boy again, but stopped at the distant look on her face. He was momentarily confused before realizing that she was acting this way for his sake, because he would hardly look like the leader of an army if he went running to his mother's arms.

"You look well," she told him, her voice formal. He felt stupid just standing there, looking at her, but he couldn't find the words he wanted to say surrounded by his father's men.

"You're a welcome sight in these troubled times, Lady Catelyn," the Greatjon greeted in the resulting silence.

"We thought not to meet you here, My Lady," Theon said, sounding slightly perplexed.

His mother's smile was sad. "I had not thought to be here."

"Don't worry, we'll soon shove our swords up Tywin Lannister's bunghole soon enough, begging your pardons, and then it's on to the Red Keep to free Ned," the Greatjon crowed in an enthusiastic voice, causing even a flicker of a smile to cross his mother's face.

"My Lady, a question, as it please you," Roose Bolton spoke up, his voice small and thin, yet somehow powerful enough to command the attention of all the men in the tent. "It is said that you hold Lord Tywin's dwarf son as captive. Have you brought him to us? I vow, we should make good use of such a hostage."

Robb looked to his mother expectantly and was surprised to see a look of regret and annoyance pass over her face. "Unfortunately, I hold Lord Tyrion hostage no longer." The men surrounding the table gave a chorus disappointed grumbles, making his mother's lips tighten. "I was no more pleased than you, my lords," she assured them. "The gods saw fit to free him, with some help from my fool of a sister." She continued before they could question her further. "I would like to speak with my son, alone, My Lords, I hope you will forgive me."

They waited until all the lords had bowed and left, Ser Rodrik and the Greatjon embracing like old friends. It was only when they were gone that both Robb and his mother let out a sigh of relief, both of them meeting in the middle to embrace each other. Robb's eyes shut when he was in his mother's arms. He was happy to see her, but more than that, he was relieved. All the insecurities and the fears that he had kept hidden from his men came rising back up and now he knew he wouldn't have to carry the burdens alone.

"You've grown a beard," she murmured when she pulled back to hold him at arm's length, her eyes glistening as she looked up at him. Robb rubbed unconcsicously at the stubble growing on his face. "I remember when you came into this world, red faced and squalling. And now I find you with a man's beard, leading a host to war."

"There was no one else," Robb answered defensively, knowing what she was getting at.

"No one?" His mother repeated in disbelief. "Then who were all those men sitting around you just moments ago?"

"None of them are Starks – "

"All of them are seasoned in battle!"

Robb's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "If you mean to send me back to Winterfell – "

His mother sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "I wish that I could," she whispered honestly. "You may look like a Tully, but you are your father's son." Robb felt a sense of pride run through him at her word's, and he realized that he felt more assured with her here. "How are Bran and Rickon?" She asked as they moved to sit along the benches. "And Maliya?"

"Bran and Rickon are well – they miss their mother, little Rickon especially." He questioned his choice of words as he saw the sorrow and regret on her face, but maybe a part of him felt like she deserved it for leaving in the first place. "Maliya is – she's…. I'm not sure," he admitted, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He was up and pacing as the memories of that disastrous fight and goodbye scene came back to him. Grey Wind, who was never far away, lifted his head to survey him through his yellow eyes. His mother watched him as well, her eyes concerned and bewildered.

His hands opened and closed as the uncertainty, anger and hurt flooded through his veins. "We fought the night before I left," Robb admitted, glancing over at his mother briefly. He hesitated only for a moment before the words came spilling out of his mouth. "She assumed that she was going to accompany us to war and I did not think that I would have to tell her otherwise. She was furious – I've never seen her so angry." The withering expression that Maliya had given him flashed in the forefront of his mind, making his stomach twist painfully. "But what other choice did I have?" Robb asked in a lost voice, a large gust of air escaping him as he sat heavily next to his mother. "I needed her someplace safe, I couldn't stand it if she were injured or… or – "

"You did the right thing, Robb," his mother told him gently, putting a hand on his shoulder, leaning forward so that she captured his gaze. "The battlefield is no place for a woman."

"I don't know if she'll ever forgive me." Robb turned to face her, feeling tortured as he voiced one of his main fears. It felt good to get his worries off his chest, of the things that had plagued him since he left Winterfell. "Maliya hates being told what to do, but more importantly she hates being told she can't do something because she is a woman. Not only did I do both of those things, but before I left I told her that I loved her." He groaned at the memory, burying his head in his hands. "I shouted it at her, actually, and then looked at her as if she should say it back. I didn't mean to say it, I didn't mean to shock her half to death. What kind of man does that make me? Who says 'I love you' and then has the gall to feel upset when his wife doesn't say it back? Who says something like that and rides off and leaves her behind?"

His mother was gazing at him with tears in her eyes and a small smile on her face. "Oh Robb," she whispered, her voice full of emotion. "Do you love her? Truly?"

"I do," Robb answered honestly and without hesitation. "It… it started out as small things – the fact that I would wake up beside her every morning and feel a certain peacefulness no matter what was happening around us. The little things I would do just to see her smile, or the fact that I missed her when she wasn't there. Then it was bigger things. I look forward to everyday with her, our future together. She has become the most important thing to me; she's become my family and I don't know what I'd do without her. Even now it feels as if there is a piece of me that is missing."

His mother's smile grew as he spoke, until it stretched wide across her face. "I'm so happy for you Robb," she told him, drawing him into a tight hug. "Love is a fascinating, all consuming, amazing thing. We are one of the few lucky ones to have found love in an arranged marriage. And don't worry about, Maliya, she just needs time to process this, to examine her own feelings. As you said, it wasn't the best timing and it did take her by surprise."

"Well, she'll have nothing but time," Robb muttered with another disappointed sigh. "I don't know when I'm going to see her again."

"After we rescue your father," his mother told him, reminding him of why they were there in the first place.

"There was a letter," Robb said, rummaging through his pockets and handing her the parchment. "From Sansa."

"From the Queen, you mean," his mother corrected in disgust. She took the letter and read it through quickly, her face growing more and more distraught. "There's no mention of Arya." He shook his head slowly when she looked up at him. "How many men do you have?"

"18,000," Robb answered, his expression quietly thoughtful. "If I go to King's Landing to bend the knee, we would never be allowed to leave and the Lannisters could still kill father, Arya and Sansa. But if I retreat and go home, I will lose the respect of all of our bannermen."

His mother nodded her agreement, her voice strong and passionate. "Our best hope, our _only_ hope, is that we can beat them in the field. If we can capture Lord Tyrion or the Kingslayer than we may be able to make a trade, it's true. But so long as you have power, the Lannisters are going to fear you and what you are capable of. They will keep them alive just in case they have to keep the peace."

"And if I lose?" Robb questioned, though he thought he already knew the answer. "If the fighting doesn't go in our favor?"

"Remember the fate of the Targaryen children, of Maliya's cousins, when the Mad King fell?" His mother countered.

Robb's jaw clenched, still disgusted by the act all these years later. "They were butchered in their sleep."

"By _Tywin Lannister_ ," his mother added. "And the years have not made him any kinder."

"That makes it simple then," Robb reasoned, a grim smile on his face as a strength and determination filled him. "We will _not_ lose."

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

"I thought I would find you here," Maliya called gently, smiling so as not to startle Bran. He was sitting in the godswood beneath the weirwood tree, his hands clasped as he prayed to the old gods. Bran looked up as she approached to sit next to him, his expression still as somber as the day Robb left. "How are you doing?" She quietly asked, slipping an arm around his shoulder to pull him in for a quick hug.

"I'm alright," Bran answered, the same response he gave her everytime she asked. "Are you? You seem different. Is it because Robb's not here? Do you miss him?"

"Yes," Maliya murmured, her heart lurching in her chest the same as it did everytime she thought of him. "More than I thought I would, it seems." She plastered a smile back on her face. "But enough about me. Do you mind if I pray with you for a while? I grew up worshipping the Seven, and while I have prayed to them already, they are not Robb's gods."

"Of course," Bran nodded. He put his hands together in front of him, bowing his head and clenching his eyes shut. "Please watch over Robb," he prayed. "And mother and father, Arya and Sansa. Please watch over the men in Robb's army and keep them safe. Help them defeat the Lannisters so they can come home and we can be a family again."

Maliya swallowed harshly, her heart reaching out to him as she watched him pray, forgetting that she was supposed to be doing the same thing. She didn't know what to say to make him feel better, she had tried everything that she could think of. It was even worse with Rickon. She was trying to spend time with him, but it was almost as if she could feel him slipping further and further away.

"Do you hear them, little lord?" They both wipped their heads around to see Osha, the wildling woman approaching them quietly. Maliya looked down, frowning and wondering how she could move so silently with chains tied around her ankles. Summer, who had been lying by the pool, stood as she approached, circling her and sniffing, causing Osha to freeze where she was. Maliya had kept a close eye on Osha ever since she had interrupted Maliya brewing the Moon Tea, but it seemed that the wildling woman truly didn't seem to care about what she witnessed.

"Summer to me," Bran called, hitting his thigh and petting the direwolf as he padded over to him. He titled his head to the side. "Do I hear who?"

"The gods," Osha answered, gesturing up at the heart tree. "They're mine too. Beyond the Wall, they're the only gods. You asked them and they're answering. Open your ears, listen, and you'll hear."

Maliya eyed her suspiciously as Bran looked up at the tree curiously, listening for a moment. "It's only the wind. The leaves are rustling," Bran told her, pointing out what should have been obvious.

"Who do you think sends the wind?" Osha countered, moving closer. "They see you, boy. They hear you talking. That rustling, that's them talking back."

Maliya could see Bran's curiosity grow with each word that came out of Osha's mouth, and she knew that she should probably put a stop to this conversation but she couldn't help but feel a little intrigued herself. "What are they saying?" Bran asked.

"They're sad," Osha told him in a mysterious voice. "Your lord brother will get no help from them, not where he's going. The old gods have no power in the south. The weirwoods there were all cut down thousands of years ago. How can they watch your brother when they have no eyes?"

It was a point that neither Bran or herself had considered, but before they could think about it too deeply, there was a loud crashing noise coming towards them and Hodor crashed through the trees, smiling smile lopsided smile and naked as the day he was born. Maliya's eyes widened as she caught sight of his _huge_ manhood swinging heavily between his legs, before she swiftly averted her eyes, automatically clapping a hand over Bran's eyes and making him laugh.

"Hodor, go back and find your clothes!" Bran called, trying to pry Maliya's hands away.

"Hodor," Hodor agreed, before turning and bumbling through the woods again.

"Now that was a big man," Osha commented with a smirk. "He's got giant's blood in him, or I'm the queen."

"There aren't any giants anymore," Maliya pointed out in a sour voice, giving her a pointed look. She didn't need this woman telling Bran any ridiculous stories from beyond the Wall.

"Yes there are," Osha disagreed, those unnerving eyes moving to look at her. "My brother killed one once, ten foot tall she was. But that's not the worst thing that's out there. I tried to tell your husband that he was marching the wrong way." Maliya didn't believe a word she was saying, but it didn't stop a shiver from running down her spine. "The cold winds are rising. Men go out from their fires and never come back. Or if they do, they're not _men_ not more, but only wights, with blue eyes and cold black hands. This is why I came South, though truthfully I wanted to get much farther than this. Mance thinks he'll fight, the sweet, brave, stubborn man, but white walkers are not men to be easily killed."

Maliya narrowed her eyes. "White walkers haven't been seen in thousands of years, not since the War for the Dawn ended."

"Can't you feel it in the air?" Osha murmured mysteriously, her voice almost hypnotic. "The walkers aren't sleeping no more."

When Maliya felt Bran shudder beside her, she blinked, realizing what she was allowing to happen. "That's enough," Maliya said, abruptly, standing and making Osha take a step back. "I'm sure there are some pots that need cleaning." Osha's eyes drited to Bran for a moment before she bowed respectfully and left without another word. "Hodor!" Maliya called, waiting a moment as he came back, fully clothed this time. "Help Bran get back to the castle, it's time for supper."

Summer stretched, circling them as Hodor picked Bran up. "Aren't you coming, Maliya?" Bran asked, looking back at her.

"I'll be there in a moment," Maliya told him. "Go on without me."

She waited until he left before turning to look back up at the heart tree, lacing her fingers in front of her. Sighing, she hesitated for a moment before she began to speak. "I don't… I'm not sure if you can hear me. Actually, I'm not sure of much these days," she muttered with a sigh. "But if you can hear me, then please watch over Robb. The rest of the people of the North as well, but especially Robb. We may have fought before he left, but I still miss him, even if he is an overprotective arse. I'm still not sure if I love him – I know what love is in regards to my family, but I've never loved a man before, I don't know what love is! I don't know if my mother loved my father, but even if they did have some sort of affection for each other, my father still abandoned her… and us. Uncle Doran loved Mellario, but she left him because he fostered Quentyn. Those aren't the best examples of love. I know that I care for Robb, deeply, but I am unsure if it runs as deep as love. I pray for help and guidance… in all aspects of my life at this moment." She stopped when she ran out of words and turned to go, but paused. "Thank you," she finished awkwardly, bowing her head slightly before leaving the godswood.

She didn't know if she would receive help in any form, but she somehow felt better anyway.

* * *

 **Ned's POV**

Darkness. That's all that existed in his life now. There was no sun or moon – it mattered not if his eyes were opened or closed, everything was still black. He didn't know how long he had been imprisoned here deep below the Red Keep, but it felt like forever. The only thing he had for company was his own voice and the people he wished he could damn straight to the deepest parts of hell. Littlefinger, Janos Slynt and the gold cloaks for turning on him, Lord Renly for running when he was needed most, the queen for being a conniving bitch and not leaving when he gave her the chance and even Robert for being a terrible king.

But it was worse when he thought of his daughters, wild-spirited Arya and beautiful Sansa who only wanted to marry a prince. He wanted to weep and scream and shout at the world and he may have done so. He slowly felt as if he were losing his mind; he began to talk out loud just to hear the sound of another voice. He remembered the King as he was when he was young, he remembered the fighting all those years ago, he remembered his sister and Rhaegar Targaryen and his daughter Rhaenys, who was now his good-daughter. He had tried to help her, he had kept her secret and tried to find out who had smuggled her out of King's Landing.

Footsteps came from outside the cell, and Ned weakly turned his to the side to see who was approaching as the door opened. Ned flinched at the light from the torch as the figure squatted down next to him, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. This goaler was different, one he didn't recognize. He was shorter than the other, though he wore the same leather half cape and spiked steel cap. "Here, Lord Stark," the man said, handing him a wineskin. "Drink."

Ned slowly took the wineskin, frowning at the man's voice, something going off in the back of his mind. " _Varys_?" He croaked after a momen, actually reaching out to touch the man's face to make sure he was real. "How did you….?"

Varys gestured to the wineskin, ignoring his question. "Drink." He sighed theatrically when Ned still hesitated and reached out to take the wineskin for himself. "Why is it that no one trusts the eunuch?" He muttered under his breath, taking a quick sip before handing it back. "Slowly, slowly! You should save some for later, My Lord, many have been known to die of thirst down here."

Ned coughed, lowering the wineskin with a shaky hand. "My daughters…" he whispered.

"The younger girl escaped from Ser Meryn," Varys informed him, and Ned found himself hanging intently on his every word. "Even my little birds cannot find her, but that means the Lannisters haven't either, which is a small blessing. Your older girl is still engaged to Joffrey. Cersei will keep her close. The rest of your household though, all dead it grieves me to tell you, I do so hate the sight of blood."

Ned looked at the other man with a hint of disgust, anger flitting through his veins. "You watched my men being slaughtered and did nothing?"

Varys tilted his head to the side, blinking once. "And would again. I was unarmed, unarmored and surrounded by Lannister swords. I am no hero, My Lord, there was nothing that I could have done. I am a master of whisperers, I must be sly and obsequious and without scruple. A courageous informer would be as useless as a cowardly knight." The two men fell silent, surveying each other for another moment. "I trust you realize you're a dead man?"

Ned shook his head. This was one thing he was relieved to know, at least. "The queen will not kill me. Cat holds her brother. If she does anything to me or to the girls – "

"Unfortunately, your wife has let the Imp slip through her fingers. He's somewhere in the Mountain of the Moon."

The news was devastating. The small bubble of hope that had been kept alive in his chest, popped, withered and died. "If that's the case then just slit my throat and be done with it," Ned rasped, distraught.

"Not today, My Lord. Really, what madness led you to tell the queen that you had learned the truth of Joffrey's birth?" Varys questioned, shaking his head in disbelief.

"The madness of mercy," Ned admitted, passing a hand over his face. "I had hoped she would leave and save her children."

"Ah, to be sure. Unfortunately, not many people are as honorable and honest as you are, My Lord."

A sudden thought struck him, one that he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of before. He didn't know if it was because he was so weak or delirious from lack of hunger, but it all began to make sense. "Could you get me out of these pits?" Ned asked, probing and watching his expression as carefully as he could, wishing more than anything else that he could think straight.

Varys gave him a sad smile. "Could I? Of course. But I won't. That would lead to questions and the answers would lead back to me."

"You know secret ways around the castle and the city, you and your birds know everything that goes around here and you advised the Mad King against opening the gates for Tywin Lannister," Ned told him, half delirious as his vision swam. If he was correct, then Varys wouldn't say anything now, not to ruin the secret he had kept for over a decade. "I have thought about it over and over, trying to figure it out in my head when all along it was you. You were the one who smuggled Rhaenys Targaryen out of King's Landing the day the Mad King Fell."

Did Ned imagine the flicker of shock and fear in Varys' eyes? "What an odd thought process, My Lord. I don't think you're mind is working properly. Little Rhaenys Targaryen was slain while hiding under her father's bed, as you very well know."

"Yes, and she was mangled so badly that it was difficult to recognize her face," Ned mused, still thinking out loud. "Who do you truly work for, Varys? The Targaryens? Because of you, Rhaenys is alive and well, and she's now married to my son. And yet I've heard whispers that you aided Aerys' paranoia and his descent into madness."

Lord Varys stood, his expression becoming blank once more. "I serve the realm, My Lord," Varys cryptically answered, effectively ending their conversation. "Someone has to."

Ned watched him leave, taking the torch with him and abandoning him to the darkness once more. He wanted to call him back, to question him further about Rhaenys and receive confirmation that he was the one who had actually smuggled her out of King's Landing. Frowning, Ned leaned his head back against the wall, belated wondering whether the entire conversation had been real or if he had imagined the whole thing.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Ahhh don't kill me! Hopefully you guys felt that Robb's confession and Maliya's reaction to both the fact that she was being left behind and that he loved her was realistic. And there was a little intrigue with the whole Varys/Ned conversation. What do you think is going to happen next? Anything you guys want to see in particular?**

 **Next chapter: A closer look at Maliya's feelings, some concern from the Maester, a letter to Dorne and a few nightmares to add to the mix. The entire chapter will be told from Maliya's POV, but don't worry, we'll see Robb the chapter after!**

 **I also just want to make sure everyone understands something. I will not be changing everything from canon, this story is not an AU. This is how I envisioned and planned the story, so this is the way that I'm going to be writing it. It's a fine line within this fandom because one event in season 1 can trigger other events until season 5. So I have to pick and choose what I'm going to change and what is going to stay the same. I know much hasn't seemed to change up until now, but I hope you'll stick around and wait and see what I do change. I have a lot of interesting things planned, I promise!**

 **As always, please don't forget to leave a review with your honest thoughts. I love reading what you guys think and the reviews make my day :)**

Guest 1 - Thanks for the review, I'm so glad you're loving the story :)

Guest 2 - I don't want to give anything away regarding Theon, so you're just going to have to stick around and see! Thanks for reviewing!

Deiron Lionheart - Thanks for taking the time to review! You brought up a lot of good points regarding the crypts and it will definitely be something that I have to think more about! Your questions about what's coming are really good as well, but I don't like giving things away :)

Guest 3 - Thank you! I also want to thank you for seeing the fact that Ned dying was one of the main reasons the war really got underway. It's refreshing to read that rather than everyone else who wants me to save him.

Boramir - I hope this chapter answered your question about whether she's going to stay or go! Though with Maliya, nothing is too certain is it lol. Wow you have a lot of questions - I want to keep the element of surprise! I will say that we will be hearing more from Ned, we will hear from Dorne and that isn't the last we will see of the dragon egg!

Samantha - Thanks for your review, I'm so glad you liked the chapter again! The scene with Osha was a last minute addition - I felt she was too good a character to ignore!

Guest 4 - Thanks for reviewing! As you can see from this chapter, Maliya is home - for now!


	14. Change of Plans

**Author's Note: HUGE thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed my story – I can't believe this story has hit 300 reviews, you guys continue to blow me away. This chapter was a bit of a pain in my ass, but I didn't quite know how to change it.**

 **Special thanks to pawelp and mcummings329 for their help.**

 **Hope you guys enjoy the chapter, don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think! :)**

* * *

Chapter 14: Change of Plans

 _Dearest Father,_

 _I apologize for not writing to you for so long. I really appreciated your last letter, it was so wonderful to hear news from home! I have my own news that may have already reached you down south, but do you remember that stag I had spotted while animal watching? It seems to have finally met its end – I wasn't there to witness it, but my guess would have to be the lion. It seems to have an insatiable appetite._

"Bran," Maester Luwin chided gently, tapping the map on the table and attempting to draw his student's attention back to the lesson. It was a lazy, slow day, one in which time seemed to drag by so slowly that she felt as if it were moving backward. The three of them were sitting in the now empty Great Hall after breakfast. Maester Luwin had been making Bran study harder than ever now that he was the acting Lord of Winterfell since Robb had left. Bran didn't complain much, but he was outwardly unenthusiastic about the whole idea.

Bran sighed heavily, his head in his hand as he glanced at the map, taking a bite of the cold bacon that he was still nibbling on. "The Iron Islands. Sigil – the Cracken. Words – 'we do not sow.'

"Lords?"

"The Greyjoys," Bran answered unenthusiastically. Looking down, Maliya allowed herself a small smile at his obvious boredom. She dipped her quill in the ink once more, rubbing the throbbing pain in her temple as she finished up her letter.

 _In response, the wolves have begun to gather, the entire pack marching away from it's home. I pray everyday that the sun will guide them in the right direction and keep them safe._

 _I miss you and the rest of the family more than words can describe. I hope to hear from you soon._

 _Your loving daughter_

"Bran, I've been unsuccessfully trying to hold your attention for far too long," Maester Luwin sighed in exasperation, rolling up the map and putting it to the side. "Would you care to share what's on your mind?"

"I had another dream last night," Bran answered, looking up as a spark of interest finally entered his eyes.

"About the three eyed raven again?" Maester Luwin guessed, his voice positively dropping with disapproval.

Maliya paused in pressing her family's crest to the hot wax of the letter she had just rolled, frowning as her eyes flickered between the two of them. "Did I hear that correctly?" Maliya interrupted, leaning forward. "Did you just say a _three_ eyed raven?"

Bran nodded enthusiastically, spurred on by her apparent curiosity. "It's always the same dream. I'm standing outside, actually standing, and I'm about to shoot an arrow, except before I do, this raven flies passed me out of nowhere and lands on a direwolf statue. It turns towards me and instead of it's two normal eyes, it has a third one above them. When I move closer to it, it flies away so I follow it, and every single time it leads me to the crypts of Winterfell."

Maliya froze when Bran mentioned the crypts, and it was a full three seconds before she reminded herself to breathe and appear normal. "The crypts?" Maliya repeated, in a hopefully nonchalant and partially confused voice. _It had to be a coincidence. Didn't it?_ "Why do you think it keeps leading you towards the crypts?" If Bran mentioned anything about Dragon eggs, Cregan Stark or a hidden room, Maliya was going to have to hide the egg someplace more safe.

"I don't know," Bran admitted with a look of frustration. As guilty as she felt about it, his admission sent a wave of relief rushing through her, at least for the moment. "I always wake up just as I reach the doors of the crypts."

"We've talked about this Bran," Maester Luwin interjected, sending Maliya a pointed look that so obviously said to stop asking questions and encouraging him. "It was a dream and nothing more. There is no such thing as a three eyed raven and it's not trying to send you a message." His words were delivered gently but firmly, enough to get his point across but not too strong that it offended him. Even so, Bran's face transformed into that stubborn look that Maliya had seen so often on Robb and Arya's faces. "We really should be getting back to your studies. And if you are just going to play with your food than you should have someone take it away."

"I'm still eating," Bran told him petulantly, glowering before lifting the plate of bacon and holding it out to Maliya expectantly. "Here, Maliya, you like bacon even more than I do. Can you help me finish this?"

Maliya looked down at the plate in front of her face, the lingering smell wafting up and invading her nose. Her hand dropped down to her stomach as it violently roiled, her eyes widening as she swallowed harshly to keep the contents of her stomach down. Her other hand unconsciously came up to push the plate away from her, her head turning to the side. "I've already eaten, thank you Bran," she gasped as her stomach finally began to settle down.

Bran looked confused at her reaction, but Maester Luwin was eyeing her with concern, a look in his eye that she didn't quite like. "Are you alright, My Lady?"

"I'm alright," she tried to assure him, plastering a smile on her face. "Just a little queasy is all."

"How long has this been happening?" Maester Luwin pressed, tilting his head to the side.

"Nothing is happening," Maliya chuckled, brushing off his concerns. "Now, didn't I hear something about Bran getting back to his studies?"

Bran made a disgruntled face. "I don't want to study," he complained. "Can we see that map again, Maester Luwin? Where do you think Robb is right now?"

Maester Luwin looked between their interested faces with a kind of reluctant amusement before sighing once more and unrolling the map. "Your brother would have taken a straight a path south," Maester Luwin told them, his finger trailing a path down from Winterfell. They have a lot of men riding with them, so depending how fast they are moving, they may have already reached or past Moat Cailin, here."

"And where do you think they would go next?" Maliya asked, frowning as she leaned forward to examine the map closely.

"I am not proficient in military tactics," Maester Luwin told her, shaking his head. "I could not even begin to know what Robb and his commanders would have decided – "

"Take a guess," Maliya insisted, her gaze hard.

Maester Luwin looked at her for a long moment, before nodding. "I'm not confident about the current position of the Lannister army, but the last that I heard, they were invading the south Riverlands."

"So then they're probably heading for Riverrun," Maliya concluded, pointing. "I mean, that's what I would do. Lady Stark took Lord Tyrion captive, so Lord Tywin is retaliating by attacking her home."

Bran's little face frowned in concentration, a look that greatly resembled his expression whenever he opposed her in Cyvasse. "If that's true, than it looks like the Green Fork is between them."

"Go on," Maester Luwin encouraged, watching his young student, and looking pleased that there might be a lesson in all of this anyway.

"Well," Bran pondered, his finger trailing the river. "The only two crossings are here, at the Twins which is held by Lord Frey, or here at the Ruby Ford, which is much further south." Maliya's heart clenched at the mention of the Ruby Ford. It was where Robert Baratheon had killed her father, so named because the blow from the war hammer supposedly knocked the rubies from her father's breastplate and scattered in the water. "The crossing at the Twins would be faster for Robb, and Lord Frey is a bannerman of the Tully House, so it would probably be safer as well."

"Very well thought out, Bran," Maester Luwin praised, making Bran beam.

Bran looked up between the two of them, his eyes shining with hope and a childlike innocence. "Robb is going to win this war," he declared with conviction, no shred of doubt in his voice. "He's going to defeat the Lannisters and he's going to bring Father, Sansa and Arya back home. You'll see."

"Of course he is," Maliya replied softly, smiling to hide the fears and doubts in her own mind. She stood to get up from the table and swayed dangerously, her hand bracing herself against the table as the floor tilted beneath her. Her hand came to her forehead as black spots danced in front of her eyes, and for a minute she feared she would faint. Blinking rapidly as the dizziness faded, Maliya lowered her head and looked around, realizing that Maester Luwin was standing next to her, supporting her elbow so she wouldn't fall over.

"My Lady?" He questioned anxiously, his eyes flickering between the two of hers. "My Lady please, if you would just come with me so I can examine you – "

"I'm fine, Maester Luwin," Maliya cut in, assuring him with a smile and a voice that brooked no argument. "I merely need some fresh air to clear my head. Would you like to accompany me?" She asked, turning to Bran and raising her eyebrows. He nodded hesitantly before turning to send someone to find Hodor. While he was distracted, Maliya turned back to Maester Luwin and whispered to him in urgent, hushed tones. "I know what you're thinking Maester, but I can assure you that you are wrong. It's nothing – I'm probably just coming down with some sort of illness."

"My Lady, you're feeling nauseous - " Maester Luwin protested in a hushed whisper.

"It's probably just something that I ate – " Maliya hissed back.

"You look paler than usual, and tired as well – "

"In case you have forgotten, Maester Luwin, my husband has just ridden off to war against an army and a family bigger and more powerful than his. If you really must know, I haven't been able to sleep since he left," Maliya snapped, her brown eyes narrowing. Last night while she was lying awake on Robb's side of the bed, she had finally realized the reason behind the fear that gripped her heart whenever she thought of Robb riding off to war. Her father Rhaegar had left for war when she was but three years old and he had gotten himself killed. Maliya hated to draw parallels, but she was being left behind again while her husband rode off to war this time, and she feared he would suffer the same fate. "Does it cause you joy to point out the worries and fears that are currently plaguing me?"

Maester Luwin looked shocked. "Of course not, My Lady! I only wanted to check to see if you are – "

"Are you ready Bran?" Maliya asked over him as if he didn't speak, lacing her fingers in front of her as Hodor came to a stop by their table.

"Can we go for a ride on the trails, Maliya?" Bran asked hopefully as Hodor picked him up.

"I'm afraid not," Maliya answered apologetically, looking at him regretfully. "Robb left us with strict orders not to go beyond the castle walls, it isn't safe."

"I thought not," Bran muttered, his eyes looking down.

Maliya's heart went out to him and she just couldn't stand the sight of his crestfallen little face. "But maybe we can ride around inside the castle walls for a bit. Nothing above a trot of course, but fast enough to get your blood pumping a little bit. Maybe we can even find Rickon and he can practice riding his own horse as well."

"Alright!" Bran cried enthusiastically, a wide grin splitting his face. "Well, you heard the lady, Hodor – to the stables!"

"Hodor," Hodor answered, smiling as he headed out of the Great Hall.

"I shall go and find Rickon," Maester Luwin murmured to her, bowing his head before exiting as well.

Maliya watched him go, waiting until he left before letting out a relieved breath, her hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She angrily willed her still agitated stomach to calm down, refusing to acknowledge the weakness in her muscles or the tiredness in her limbs. Though she felt badly for speaking like that to the maester who was only concerned for her, he was wrong. He had to be. There was no way that she was pregnant.

* * *

 **Cersei's POV**

Cersei entered the sunny sitting room with a pleased smile on her face as she walked over to the small writing table and poured herself a cup of wine. So far, everything was going according to plan. Robert, her insufferable husband, was dead. She had often imagined how good it would be to be finally be rid of him, but nothing compared to the real thing. She felt free, freer than she had been before she had even married him.

It had been almost too easy to have him killed, a stroke of brilliance on her part. While her attempt to get him to enter the Tournament for the Hand had failed, it was almost better that her second attempt had succeeded. Her cousin Lancel was effortlessly manipulated with just the sight of her body. He had eagerly agreed to serve the King his favorite wine during the hunt, ensuring that her dear husband was drunk when he heroically took on the boar by himself. The best part was, it had all happened so perfectly that no one could possibly suspect her involvement.

Now her son was sitting as King on the Iron Throne and she was Queen Regent. While it was a shame that Sansa's letter to her brother imploring him to bend the knee had failed, it mattered not. Her father and Jaime would easily take care of the Young Wolf and his army. Besides, she had the boy's father locked up deep in the dungeons of the Red Keep and kept the little dove close beside her. While it would have been better to have both girls, the littlest urchin had somehow managed to escape right underneath her nose.

No matter. Soon Ned Stark would see the error of his ways and he would confess to treason and bend the knee to Joffrey. She knew he would go against his honor as a man because she saw in him a similar desire to do anything to save his children. Ned Stark would be convicted of treason and join his bastard son at the wall, both discrediting him and removing him from the politics of the Capitol, all without further antagonizing the North.

And then her family would rule all of Westeros unopposed.

A knock sounded at the door. "What is it?" Cersei called out, annoyed at being disturbed.

"It's Gurnar, Your Grace," her guard answered through the door. "He says he has an appointment to see you."

"Yes, yes, send him in," Cersei instructed, moving around to sit behind her table, taking another sip from her cup. The guards opened the door and Gurnar walked in. Cersei hid her disgust for the overweight, balding man. He smelled as if he hadn't had a proper bath in weeks, and his breath reeked even worse. He was a strong man however, and easily manipulated as the lead jailer in charge of the dungeons. "Good evening, Gurnar," Cersei greeted with a polite smile. "I assume you've come to give your report on our prisoner."

Gurnar walked further into the room and bowed his head. Cersei had to struggle not to wrinkle her nose as his stench reached her. "Aye, Yer Grace," he answered, his voice formal and important. "Over the past couple a days, the prisoner – " Cersei tuned him out, taking another sip of wine and making sure to nod and make small noises of agreement in the appropriate places. She had taken extra precautions to have Gurnar report to her anything and everything about Ned Stark, just in case. The results however, had been unsatisfactory, and the same each time. Gurnar rambled on and on about which jailer sees Ned Stark sleep or eat or take a piss and none of it was of any importance to her. "As I've said before, yer prisoner talk to hisself a lot. Mostly 'bout his family, but he sometimes says some others names too. He's said yers a few times, and the late king's but there was a new one yesterday, one of them dead Targaryens." Cersei tilted her head to the side, feeling intrigued despite herself. She put her cup down, wondering why on Earth Ned Stark was talking about the Targaryens. Gurnar's face crumpled into a frustrated frown as he tried to think. "I think it started with an 'R' – "

"Rhaegar?" Cersei demanded impatiently, leaning forward. "Was it Rhaegar Targaryen?"

"No, no," Gurnar disagreed shaking his head, though he looked pleased to finally have her full and undivided attention. "It was the little girl, 'is daughter, gods, I can't remember her name – "

"Rhaenys?" Cersei pressed, her green eyes narrowed as a strange feeling of foreboding flooded through her.

"Yes, Rhaenys, that was it!" Gurnar cried triumphantly and enthusiastically.

Cersei forced a smile onto her face, and fought to keep her voice pleasant. "And what was Lord Stark saying about Rhaenys Targaryen?"

Gurnar frowned again, reaching up to scratch his head. "Dunno, really, not much of it made a lick of sense to me. He kept saying that he was sorry and something about a secret that he had promised to protect. I think he's losing his mind, but that's just mine own thoughts – "

"Thank you, Gurnar," Cersei interrupted, her mind racing. "You've done a remarkable job so far, I can assure you that you will be paid handsomely for your work. In the meantime, consider this a token of my appreciation until the job is over." She opened the small chest on the table and pulled out a small bag on coins, placing it on the table in front of her.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Gurnar blubbered, bowing his head over and over again. "I'm so happy to serve the royal family – "

"That will do," Cersei interrupted, raising a hand. "Leave me." Gurnar shut his mouth and bowed once more before taking the bag of coins and leaving the sitting room,, shutting the door behind him.

Cersei unconsciously found herself rising from her chair, her brow furrowed as she began to pace the length of the room.

Ned Stark and Rhaenys Targaryen. What was the connection between the two? The girl had already been dead by the time Ned reached King's Landing during the war. Why would he be apologizing to her and what secret had he promised to protect? It was unlikely that he had ever even met the girl. Cersei was almost positive that he hadn't visited the Capital since the girl had been born. Her mind worked furiously, considering all the possible options.

Was he apologizing to her because he had failed to protect her? Because he hadn't reached them before Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch did? But then what secret could he possibly have to protect? Could he have somehow promised her mother, Elia Martell that he would keep them safe? But again, when would they have met in order to make that promise?

Almost unconsciously, a memory arose from the back of her mind. Robert standing in front of Robb Stark's betrothed at Winterfell, his pale face slack with shock as he uttered the name Elia.

 _No, Your Grace,_ the girl had murmured, bowing her head. _Elia was my aunt, Your Grace. Sister to my father, Prince Doran._

Cersei wracked her brain, trying to remember everything she could about the girl, but admittedly it wasn't much. Truthfully, Cersei didn't pay much attention to events happening in Dorne. She made a mental note to talk to Varys or Littlefinger to see what they knew about this girl Maliya before she continued analyzing her current predicament.

Could Maliya really be Rhaenys Targaryen in disguise? Even she had been shocked at how much the girl had looked like Elia when they had first met, and it was always said that little Rhaenys was the spitting image of her mother. Could this be the secret that Ned Stark had been hoping to protect?

The whole notion seemed impossible, and yet…

 _Then comes another,_ a female voice whispered menacingly in her ear. _Younger and more beautiful than you. And she will cast you down and take all that you hold dear._

If Maliya Martell were actually Rhaneys Targaryen, then she would stand to inherit the throne if Cersei's own family weren't here. With Rhaegar and Aegon dead, Rhaenys would be next in line, even over that other Targaryen bitch across the sea. Presumably, she had been keeping her identity quiet because of Robert's hatred of the Targaryens. Now that he was dead, however, there was no reason to keep the secret any longer. If she revealed her identity to all of Westeros, there would be some Targaryen loyalists that would no doubt support her since she had a solid, believable claim to the throne. She would come after the Lannisters with a vengeance, killing them for what they had done to her family and she would have the entire support of the North behind her since she was married to the Young Wolf.

That just wasn't an option. Even if the girl wasn't Rhaenys Targaryen, Cersei couldn't take that chance. Her mere existence was a threat to Joffrey's claim to the throne and the rest of her family. Rhaenys was going to have to die – for good this time. And it would have to be done quickly, quietly, and in a way that it wouldn't lead back to her. Cersei was going to make sure of it.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

Maliya held Shadow's reins loosely in one hand as she trotted behind Bran and Rickon who were mounted on their own horses. While she had been right in saying that there wasn't much room for them to ride at a faster pace, this had all been worth it to see the twin smiles on both of the boys' faces. They were both excited by the idea of "getting out" for a bit, and while that made her happy, she was seriously wishing that she was curled up in bed right now.

Her stomach wanted to revolt each time that Shadow took a step, the motions of the saddle making her even more nauseous. She drew her cloak tighter around her in an attempt to ward off the ever present chill and shivered. Bran reined in his horse, slowing him down until he was level with Maliya. "There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about," he began, looking over at her cautiously.

"Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like this?" Maliya muttered.

"I've been talking with Osha."

"Oh Bran," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "I've told you again and again that you shouldn't speak with that woman! She's filling your head with all those ridiculous stories – "

"So you don't believe the things she says?" He asked, looking disappointed.

"You mean her stories of White Walkers, giants, and the children of the forest?" Maliya asked rhetorically, trying desperately to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "No Bran, I'm afraid I don't."

"But don't you remember the man that father executed for deserting the Night's Watch?" Bran pressed, as Maliya looked away to keep an eye on Rickon up ahead. "He had mentioned the White Walkers as well, it was why he fled! Are you saying both of them are lying?"

"What are you trying to say, Bran?" Maliya asked reluctantly, her head turning to look at him.

"I'm just saying that maybe Osha's right. Maybe Robb is marching the wrong way."

After glancing once more at Rickon to make sure he was still in watching distance, Maliya pulled Shadow to a stop and Bran did the same for his horse. "Listen, I wasn't with Osha, I couldn't tell you what experiences she might have gone through. Maybe the White Walkers are back and maybe they're not," she continued, though she was inclined to believe the latter. "Either way, Robb has had to deal with the immediate threat, which is the Lannisters. Family is important above all else and Robb is going to save the rest of your family. You do understand that, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Bran answered, sounding offended. "I just have this bad feeling, Maliya, I can't describe it, but I feel like it has something to do with the three eyed raven."

Maliya had just opened her mouth to respond when Rickon turned his horse around to make his way back to them. He hadn't quite mastered how to sit in the saddle yet, so he bounced with every step that his horse took. "What are you guys waiting for?" He called, circling around them with a giant grin on his face. "I know you said we had to go slow, Maliya, but you guys aren't even moving!"

Maliya fixed her expression into a more pleasant one as her eyes followed the boy. "I'm sorry, Rick. Bran and I were just discussing something." She stopped talking, closing her eyes as Rickon continued to circle around her. "Can you stop moving in circles?" She asked in a breathless voice as the world continued to spin, concentrating with everything she had not to get sick.

"Maliya?" She dimly heard Bran call in alarm, though his voice sounded muffled and far away compared to the roaring in her ears. Realizing that she was officially about to lose the battle against her body, Maliya quickly leaned over Shadow's side and heaved. "Rickon, I need you to go find Maester Luwin! Now!"

"I'm fine," Maliya gasped, trying to assure him as a confused and frightened Rickon took off, bouncing along on his horse back to the castle. "I just – I just need to… get down," she murmured. Swinging a leg over Shadow's saddle, she made to get off her horse and slipped on the way down, missing her footing and crashing to her hands and knees.

With the world still spinning, Maliya was helpless as the blackness came rushing towards her. The last thing she saw before it claimed her was Bran's anxious face above her, still strapped to his saddle as he paced his horse around her, trying to tell her that everything would be alright.

She caught flashes as her consciousness faded in and out. Maester Luwin's worried face above her, a swaying motion as someone carried her into the castle, the movement causing her to get sick once more until she was finally laid on her own bed.

"Tell me exactly what happened," Maester Luwin commanded, as she felt him feeling along her throat and lifting her eyelids to peer into her eyes.

"I don't know!" She heard Bran answer, his voice distressed. "One minute we were talking and then she got dizzy and started throwing up and fell off her horse!"

"Why is she shaking?" Rickon asked fretfully, and Maliya felt the bed dip a little beside her. "Is she going to be alright, Maester Luwin?"

"Don't get too close, Rickon," Maester Luwin warned. "It appears my first assumption was wrong and Lady Maliya has come down with some sort of illness. Her throat is red and swollen, and she's developed a fever." Maliya tried to pry her eyes open, to tell Bran and Rickon that she will be just fine, but the darkness was coming to claim her again and she couldn't do anything to stop it.

* * *

Her feverish dreams were tangled and confusing, a mixture of flashes that she didn't understand and a nightmare that she couldn't wake up from. Maester Luwin and Julina took care of her while she slept, and Bran and Rickon visited her as often as the Maester would allow. Her body alternated between curling up in the fetal position beneath the furs shivering and sweating profusely, her hair clinging to her forehead as she threw the furs away from her.

She was unaware of all of this, however. All she knew was the confusing images that her mind was currently putting her through.

 _She was flying above a group of people, leisurely flapping her wings as she circled around the lone tent. The sun beat pleasurably on her body and she stretched her neck happily in the resulting heat, her scales rustling softly. The people below her appeared small from her height in the sky, but she could see the commotion going on as they moved into the tent. At this point time seemed to speed up slightly while her vision was obscured, but even from where she was, she could smell the sweet, yet putrid smell of rotting flesh. She heard a distraught woman's voice shouting orders, the sound of a dying horses scream and then the deep, terrible sound of a woman's voice chanting in an ancient language that she didn't understand._

 _Dark shadows suddenly danced along the tent, and she glimpsed a great wolf and a man wreathed in flames before she snorted and flew a safe distance away. She briefly heard a long, piercing wail of pain before the scene shifted._

 _There were more flashes now, scenes that flickered in her mind's eye and left before she had the time to make sense of them._

 _She flew above a ship sailing across the sea, where a familiar looking tall young man with silver blonde hair stood at the prow, his face proud and determined as he comfortably rested a hand on the pommel of his sword._

 _She flew across a never ending, perfectly blue sky, leagues of grass beneath her. She could feel that she wasn't alone as she flapped her wings as hard and as fast as she could, and sure enough when she turned her head to either side, she could see the others flying alongside her, one of green, one of gold and one of black. They roared triumphantly and she joined in eagerly, adding her flame to theirs._

 _The scene shifted again and this time she found herself in her real body. She knew, somehow, that she was standing in the middle of a battlefield – she could hear the sounds of swords clashing, of men screaming in pain and horses snorting and neighing. She was standing on one end of the field, dressed in a heavy, long sleeved dress with a high necked collar and a full skirt. On the other end, far away, she could see two figures fighting. Even from this distance she knew who they were._

 _The shorter one, with curly hair and a fur cloak was Robb, but the other one, the one with the perfect mane of golden hair was the Kingslayer. Jaime Lannister. Everything around her was moving in slow motion. She watched in horror as Jaime began to overpower Robb, sending him to one knee as he frantically raised a sword above his head to deflect another blow. "Robb!" Maliya tried to scream in fear, but neither man appeared to hear her._

 _Heart pounding a desperate rhythm in her chest, Maliya picked up the ridiculous skirts that she was wearing and began to run. She didn't have her sword with her and she couldn't feel the daggers around her leg but she was going to do everything she could to help her husband, even if she had to crush Jaime Lannister's throat with her bare hands. Except, of course, her legs felt weak and useless and the heavy dress dragging her down so far that she feared she would fall through the ground. She was going to be too late to help him, too late to save him – he was going to die and there was nothing that she could do._

 _Her heart felt as if it were splintering into a million pieces as she watched the Kingslayer triumphantly thrust his sword through Robb's chest. She let out a piercing scream as she finally drew close enough to see his eyes, those blue eyes that she loved, widen in shock and pain. She could see his blood stain the Kingslayer's sword, heard the sickening sound as he withdrew it from Robb's body and heard the menacing laugh. She pumped her legs harder, urging herself to move faster and finally time seemed to speed up._

 _Maliya collapsed next to Robb's body, her hands pressing against the gaping wound in a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding. Tears streamed down her face, her breath coming out in shuddering gasps. "No, no, please no," she chanted frantically, leaning over him. "Robb? Robb, look at me, love, please." His eyes slowly blinked open, searching slowly until they met hers. "You're going to be fine, do you hear me? We just – we just need to find a Maester or a healer…" She looked around wildly, and though she could still hear the battle raging around them, the field was frustratingly deserted._

" _Maliya," Robb rasped, coughing painfully and immediately drawing her attention once more. A sob wracked through her body, her thumb reaching out to wipe the trickle of blood that trailed from his mouth. He tried to speak but his voice caught in his throat, gurgling._

" _Shhhh," Maliya soothed, trying to control herself as she brushed his hair back. "Don't speak until help arrives."_

 _His brow furrowed in annoyance as he shook his head with a wince. He tried again, concentrating even harder, each word coming out on a painful gasp. "I – love – you." His hand shakily lifted to weakly brush against her cheek and Maliya pressed her face into it, her hand holding his in place. Panic and alarm spread through her when the strength in his arm failed and his eyes glazed over, the spark of life in them fading forever._

" _No," Maliya breathed, her eyes flickering over his face frantically. "No! You can't go, you can't leave me! Robb? Robb! Help is coming, you just have to hold on a little bit longer." He wasn't moving, his chest wasn't rising and the truth and reality began to sink in, along with a tidal wave of hopelessness, despair and regret. "I'm sorry," she cried, pressing her face into his chest, her hands gripping the fur cloak. "I'm sorry I wasn't here, I should have been here to save you." She lifted her head, pressing her lips to his lips once more. "I'm sorry. I love you."_

With a frantic, shuddering cry, Maliya woke, sitting straight up in bed, her hair plastered to her forehead and neck, drenched in sweat. She automatically pushed at the hands on her arms, her brown eyes wide and wild and it wasn't until the panic faded that she was able to come back down to reality and recognize her surroundings.

"It's alright, My Lady," Maester Luwin soothed when her eyes met his, her heart rate finally beginning to slow down. "Why are you crying? Are you hurting anywhere?"

Maliya ignored him, not even realizing that tears had been streaming down her face. "I made a terrible mistake," she whispered, her hands unconsciously clenching the sleeves of his robe. "I didn't get a chance to tell him – I didn't know, I didn't think I could feel like this – "

"I'm afraid I don't understand, My Lady – "

"Robb, he – he told me he loved me and I…. I didn't say it back," Maliya admitted in a soft voice, her face twisted with regret. "And now it's too late."

"It's never too late," Maester Luwin disagreed. "You could always write a letter to Lord Robb."

"…Yes," Maliya murmured distractedly, his words sparking the beginning of an idea. She couldn't even imagine being able to put all her thoughts and feelings down on paper without it sounding simple or ridiculous. She tried to imagine what it would sound like. _Hello Robb. How is the weather faring down south? Things have been just fine here. Oh and by the way, I'm sorry I didn't say it before, but I love you._ It's just not something that you send to someone, especially when you say it for the first time.

"Your fever seems to have broken, which is good to see," Maester Luwin muttered to himself, checking her out. "You've been asleep for two days."

Maliya blinked, the news coming as a huge shock to her. "Two days?" She repeated, aghast. "How – Are Bran and Rickon alright?"

"They're fine," Maester Luwin reassured her with a smile. "Just worried about you." Maliya's shoulders slumped with relief at his words, and she slumped back into the pillows, exhausted. "So it turns out you were right, My Lady, you aren't pregnant after all." He hesitated for a moment. "You seemed to certain that you weren't pregnant – may I ask why?"

Maliya's mind raced as she quickly thought of an answer. "I had just had my moon's blood only last week," she answered calmly, for this was actually the truth. "And since Robb has been away longer than that, I knew it just wasn't possible. And I was relieved about that, to be honest. I know it's selfish of me, but I don't want to birth and raise a child on my own while my husband is off to war."

"I can understand your reasoning, but Lady Catelyn managed all on her own," Maester Luwin reminded her. "I distinctly remember her saying that she was grateful that she had Robb while Lord Eddard was away."

 _Well, then Lady Stark and I are two very different people,_ Maliya thought sarcastically. She decided she wanted to change the subject, as she could hardly focus on the topic at hand with the plan she was currently forming in her mind. "Could you do me a favor, Maester Luwin? Could you send for Julina to bring up some food? I think I'd like to try eating something to get my strength back."

"Of course, My Lady," Maester Luwin smiled, patting her leg and slowly getting up from the bed. "We are all so glad to see that you are feeling better." She gave him a small smile as he walked away and opened the door, but frowned when Maester Luwin abruptly stopped short in the doorway. "Rickon!" He exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing lurking outside of Lady Maliya's room? I told you that I would come find you when she was awake."

"But now you don't have to," Rickon replied cheekily, peering around the maester. "She's awake right? I heard her talking in there."

"It's alright, Maester Luwin," Maliya called from her bed, sitting up higher against the pillows and attempting to make herself look presentable. She wished that she could bathe before he saw her like this, but there was nothing that could be done about that right now. "You can let him in." Rickon pushed past him and hurried into the room, only to stop short a few feet from the bed, looking at her with wide, scared eyes. Maliya tilted her head to the side, her hand jumping to her hair. "What? Do I look that bad? Is my hair changing color? Am I growing a beard on my face?" She gasped, pretending to frantically feel her cheeks. "Oh gods, am I going to have to start shaving like Robb and Jon – "

Her words had the desired effect, making Rickon giggle and roll his eyes at her antics. He hurried to her side once more as she smiled and patted the space beside her, climbing up on the bed and snuggling besides her. "Are you feeling better?" He asked, peering up at her through the fringe of his mop of brown hair. "You were sleeping for a really long time."

"I'm feeling much better," Maliya reassured him, rubbing his back soothingly. "I think I just got a little sick is all. All this cold weather is just finally catching up with me."

"So you're going to be able to get out of bed soon?"

Maliya smiled down at his concerned little face, pulling him closer for a hug. "I will be out of bed very soon. Listen, Rickon – " She was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Who is it?"

"It's Julina, My Lady. I have the food you requested."

"Come in," Maliya called, giving Julina a smile as she entered the room and put the tray down on the table. "Hey, little man, could you go tell Bran that I'm awake? I'm going to talk to Julina for a minute and then I'll come find the both of you."

"Alright!" Rickon replied happily, surprising her by sitting up and pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek before bounding off the bed and scampering out the door.

"If I may say so, My Lady, I've never seen Rickon take to someone as quickly as he took to you," Julina commented as Maliya sat there, stunned, with a hand to her cheek.

"He's a good boy," Maliya murmured distractedly, before pushing Rickon from her mind and focusing on the task at hand, the small seed of an idea that was already rapidly growing. "Shut the door, please, Julina. There are a few things I need you to do for me." Julina sent her a curious, slightly alarmed look but did as she was told. "I need you to start packing a few things for me. My lighter cloak, only two dresses, both a little lighter than the ones I usually wear." She started listing things off the top of her head, frowning again as she thought out loud. "My black flat heeled boots, my leather gloves… maybe a pair of trousers and metal armor or one of those hard boiled leather or chain mail shirts, definitely a helmet just in case – "

Julina looked both scandalized and horrified. "My Lady," she gasped, eyes wide. "I – I don't understand, why are you talking about battle armor – "

"Oh," Maliya chuckled, rolling her eyes at herself. "I'm leaving to go join Robb."

Julina blinked, nonplussed, and completely forgetting her manners. "As in your husband?" She squeaked, her voice higher than usual. "The one who's fighting in a _war_? You can't!" She spluttered when Maliya nodded. "Women aren't allowed – "

Maliya's eyes narrowed. "Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do," she warned in a low voice, before explaining herself. "Robb told me he loved me before he left and I've only just now realized that I love him as well, like an idiot! I don't even know what he is probably thinking about me, but I do know that I cannot allow him to go through another day without him knowing how I feel. Being here, away from him, not knowing how he's doing and if he's alright, it's driving me insane, and it's only going to get worse." Maliya sat up straighter, imploring her with her eyes, trying to make her understand. "I belong _with_ him, not away from him. I know that it's dangerous and I know that I'm a woman, but frankly I could care less. I've trained to fight since I was five years old. I'm not afraid and I'm not one to sit by on the side and watch other people fight. I need to do something, I cannot stay here any longer."

Julina, who had been listening to her with her mouth open, swallowed thickly, looking pale. She searched Maliya's determined face for a moment before hesitantly nodding. "Alright," Julina whispered. "I'll gather the things you requested as well as some others that you might need, though it's important that you pack light. When would you need everything ready by?"

"You have a few days, four at most," Maliya instructed. "I'll need clearance from Maester Luwin before I can get up and start walking again and then I'll need to inform him and the boys that I'll be leaving." She refused to think about that part just yet, not wanting to acknowledge the pain in her heart at the mere thought. She also needed some time to sneak into the crypts but she wasn't about to mention that part out loud.

Julina bowed her head slightly and started for the door before turning back after a moment. "You are very brave, My Lady," she said in a soft, genuine voice. "I'm honored to have been given the chance to serve and to help you."

"Thank you, Julina," Maliya whispered. "Would you please send for some hot water so that I can bathe?" The other girl bowed her head once more and left the room. Maliya sat there for another moment, gnawing on her bottom lip as she ran through her plans again and again. First a bath to wash off whatever sickness remains, then a trip to break the news to Bran and Rickon, and finally, one last visit to the crypts. There was no way she was leaving her dragon egg here – she was going to take it with her wherever she went.

* * *

 **Author's Note: So what did you guys think? I threw in a surprise scene from Cersei – she's a tricky character to write, but in the series I view her as a bit more cunning than the stupidity she shows in the books – not much, but a little. Let me know about how you thought I wrote her and the plans that she's coming up with! Then there was the feverish dreams and Dorne has finally been contacted as well – what is Doran going to do?**

 **Next chapter: A visit with the Freys, another scene with Varys and Ned, Maliya says her goodbyes at Winterfell and rides out to meet Robb and tell him how she feels.**

 **Thoughts? Concerns? Wishes, hopes or dreams? Review, please!**

Natalie - Thanks for reviewing, I'm glad you liked the story! You'll have to continue reading to find the answer to that question!

Boramir - Thanks!

Samantha - I was inwardly freaking out as well! I can't wait to read your thoughts about what Maliya does, thank you so much for reviewing!

Guest 1 - Glad you liked the chapter! We'll find about more about Varys/Ned next chapter!

Guest 2 - And I can't get over how great a compliment that was! Thank you!

louise - Thank you, I'm so glad you liked the chapter! You may get your wish answered sooner than you think!


	15. Love is a Risk

**Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait! I hope the length of this chapter makes up for my absence :)** **A special thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed my story! All of your comments are so wonderful to read and I am so happy that most of you are enjoying my story!**

 **The chapter is un-beta'd so be gentle. Keep those reviews coming :)**

Chapter 15: Love is a Risk

 **Ned's POV**

"It appears that luck is on my side again today," Ned rasped, watching as the torch light grew brighter and a disguised Varys took shape. How long had it been since the time he visited last? Ned lost count of the days that he had been stuck in this pit. He gratefully took the skin of wine that Varys offered and took a swig. "You may be my only friend, Varys."

Varys gave him a smile dripping with sweetness. "Surely not, my lord, there are still many who love you. Your daughter Sansa, for one, she pleaded so sweetly for Joffrey to spare your life."

Ned's heart clenched at the mention of his eldest daughter and he felt the anxiety clawing at his throat. "How is she?" He asked, struggling to sit up straighter. "Is she alright?"

"She is mostly unharmed as far as I can tell," Varys answered, but just as Ned was about to relax slightly, he saw Varys hesitate. "But Joffrey…" his voice trailed off, shrugging. "You know how the boy can be."

Ned's jaw clenched, and his mind immediately shied away from dwelling on what that heinous boy might be doing to his daughter. "What do you want, Varys?" He asked, annoyance leaking through his voice. "Tell me honestly, no riddles, no games."

Varys crouched next to him, his eyes locking on Ned's. "Such a simple concept really - peace throughout the realm," he answered honestly. "Which is difficult to achieve when your son is marching south with an army of northmen at his back."

"Robb?" Ned repeated, aghast, mind whirling. "But he's just a boy – "

"A boy fighting for his father's freedom," Varys reminded him gently. "There have been boy conquerors before, I can assure you. But it is Stannis Baratheon who is giving the queen the most trouble. He may be a proven battle commander but he is utterly without mercy."

"It matters not," Ned disagreed, shaking his head. "Stannis is the rightful heir to the throne." Varys opened his mouth to argue, but Ned wearily held up a hand to stop him. "But I've heard everything that you've said and I've had nothing but time to think about my options. My family is the only thing that I have left. If I…" He swallowed harshly, the next words tasting sour as they came out of his mouth. "If I publicly confess my treason and claim Joffrey as the true heir, do you believe the queen will allow me to take the black as a promise to keep my daughter safe?"

Relief shone through Varys' smile. "Yes, I believe she will. Cersei knows that a tame wolf is more use to her than a dead one."

"Then if I'm going to do this, I'm going to need you to do something for me in return." Ned had been thinking a lot about this. About his past, his regrets and his failings, but most importantly about what he could do to make it right. "I need a piece of parchment and a quill. I have a letter that needs to be sent."

It would have to be done carefully, of course, a message hidden within a message, just in case it was intercepted. And then, even when the message was uncoded, it was still just a clue - a piece to the puzzle. The truth would be extremely dangerous… for everyone involved.

But he had faith that she would figure it out… and then maybe she could fix the mistakes that he had made.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

"Everything is packed and ready, My Lady," Julina informed her, placing the last bag on the floor. "In this bag I've packed two spare dresses and some of the light armor that you requested." She hesitated, looking hesitant and uncertain. "I've also taken the liberty of designing something for you. I know that you plan to be fighting and riding too, and I imagine that can be quite cumbersome in a regular dress. It didn't take that long to do, it was quite easy actually – "

Maliya smiled fondly as her handmaiden turned friend began to babble. "Relax, Julina," she chuckled. "What do you mean you designed something?" Julina smiled sheepishly, her face turning red. She hesitated once more before reaching into the bag and pulling out what looked like a dress at first glance. Maliya's eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head to the side. "I don't mean to be rude," she began in a curious voice. "But what is it? It looks like there's a large part of the dress missing, a very important part of the dress."

"It is a dress, in a way," Julina explained, reaching back into the bag and pulling out a pair of riding leggings. "But I thought this style would be less cumbersome and easier to ride and fight." She put the two pieces of clothing together and Maliya was finally understand the design. The front part looked like a one of her simpler dresses, but it ended around the waistline and flared out around to the back, reaching just above the floor.

"So it's like trousers in the front and a dress in the back," Maliya mused, her eyes lighting up. "It's brilliant Julina! You said you designed this?" Julina nodded, looking pleased. "Have you ever thought about becoming a seamstress?"

The poor girl went pink again. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly – "

"I think that this is more than enough evidence that you could," Maliya interrupted gently. "Can I try it on?"

Unsurprisingly, the black outfit was a perfect fit. Maliya put on her flat heeled boots and stood admiring herself in the looking glass for a moment before going over to her small pile of belongings and picking up her sword. She pulled the scabbard over her head and then slowly slid the sword out of it's sheath, carefully moving it through the air. She was pleased with how flexible the dress was and how easy it was for her to move.

Unbenownst to her, Julina was watching her with an odd expression on her face. "You really learned how to fight when you were younger, didn't you?" She asked in a soft voice. "That sword, it looks like it could be an extension of your arm, like it was made to be in your hands."

"My uncle had it made specifically for me," Maliya told her, sheathing the sword and taking it off again. "And it does feel like an extension of my arm. I don't know what the fact that I like fighting says about me, but it's all I've ever known."

Julina looked thoughtful. "Well I suppose it all depends what you do with it. I think if you use your abilities to help save people than that sort of makes you a hero, doesn't it?"

Maliya involuntarily snorted, thinking of her strong, near constant desire for revenge. "I'm no hero."

"You're about to ride off to _war_ to help your husband fight to free his father," Julina pointed out with raised eyebrows. "That seems like the act of a hero to me. Have you told Bran and Rickon that you're leaving yet?"

Guilt and worry flooded through her at the mention of the boys. "No. Truthfully I've been putting it off for as long as possible. But it's been three days now and I'm afraid I don't have any time left."

Julina looked confused. "Why haven't you told them?"

Maliya sighed, leaning back against the bed. "I don't want them to be angry or upset with me. We've all been through a lot together, and now it feels like I'm just abandoning them."

"They might understand – "

"Bran might," Maliya corrected, standing to remove her new outfit and put her dress back on. "I can't see Rickon being happy with me leaving." _Especially since I promised him that I wasn't going anywhere,_ she added sullenly in her head. "And I haven't the slightest idea what Maester Luwin is going to say."

"All he can do is advise you," Julina reminded her while helping Maliya into her dress. "He cannot keep you here against your will."

"Well, I suppose we'll find out, won't we?" Maliya asked, sighing again once she was presentable. "Could you do me one more favor, Julina? Could you gather some food for the journey? Non-perishable would be best, just enough to reach the Twins." Julina nodded and bowed her head before turning to leave the room.

Maliya waited until Julina had closed the door firmly behind her before dropping to her knees and pulling a small chest out from under the bed. She had waited until late last night before she snuck down to the crypts to retrieve her dragon egg. Opening the chest, she felt an immediate sense of tranquility and peace wash over her as she picked up the beautiful egg and cradled it to her chest. "I wish that I could hatch you," she murmured to it, lovingly tracing the gold veins that ran through the pearl white shell. "With you by my side, the Lannisters would have no choice but to hand over Lord Stark, Arya and Sansa."

Blinking with shock, she nearly dropped the egg as she thought she felt a resounding heat from within. Unsure if she had been imagining it or not and realizing she didn't have time to even attempt to figure it out, Maliya closed the chest and pushed it back under the bed, taking the egg and hiding it within the bag of clothes that Julina had packed for her. It made the bag a bit heavier to be sure, but at least without the chest the bag wasn't abnormally bulky. She also added a flask of Moon Tea, enough to last several months and the leftover ingredients that she had.

Knowing that she couldn't put it off any longer, Maliya swallowed the bile that threatened to rise from her throat, and headed for the Maester's tower. She would start with Maester Luwin first. Telling him that she was leaving would be the easiest. It was a small reprieve, one that she was glad for, but of course that couldn't have worked out for her either. When she knocked on the door of the Maester's Tower and pushed it open, Bran was sitting across from Maester Luwin at the table, Hodor sitting in the corner.

"Oh!" She exclaimed in surprise, her stomach twisting itself into knots. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt – "

"You didn't!" Bran interjected eagerly, looking either pleased to see her or pleased to have his lesson interrupted. "Were you looking for me?"

Feeling put on the spot and caught off-guard, Maliya stammered out, "I – no, I wasn't, but I guess…. I guess I should talk to both of you together then."

"Is everything alright, My Lady?" Maester Luwin asked, looking at her with concern.

Maliya had to resist the strong urge to blab out all of her problems and defend all of her reasons. She took a moment to compose herself, lacing her fingers in front of her and attempting to keep her face straight. "I've decided that I'm going to leave Winterfell and join Robb."

Bran's jaw dropped comically, but Maester Luwin look unsurprised. "I was afraid that you would think of something like this," he sighed, looking weary. "My Lady, women aren't allowed – "

"Then Robb will keep me in his tent while he's off fighting his war," Maliya countered impatiently. _Or he'll try to, anyway._ "I just can't stay behind, not knowing what's happening or if he's okay. I feel as if I'm going crazy, Maester Luwin, and I can't do it anymore. As silly as this romantic notion may seem to you, he needs to know that I love him and I need to tell him in person, I can't write it in a letter."

Bran gave her a childlike frown. "He doesn't know you love him?" He asked in an innocent voice. "But you married Robb a long time ago."

Maester Luwin smiled at him fondly. "Love doesn't just appear when a man and a woman marry, Bran," he explained gently. "It takes time to develop, if they're lucky, but sometimes it never does."

"I know that," Bran muttered in a small voice.

"Nevertheless, My Lady, Robb's instructions were clear," Maester Luwin continued in a matter of fact voice, turning to look at her once more. "You are to remain here at Winterfell with Bran and Rickon – "

"Let her go, Maester Luwin," Bran interrupted, in a calm voice, making Maliya's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "It's not like we can force her to stay."

Maester Luwin was plainly shocked as well. "Bran – "

"I am Lord of Winterfell while Robb is away," Bran reminded him in a loud, firm voice, before his face softened and his voice lowered. "Besides, I know what it's like to feel trapped and want nothing more than to escape."

"Bran," Maliya murmured softly, stepping closer to sit next to him, placing a hand on his arm. "A large part of me does not wish to go. I wish that I could stay here with you and Rickon."

"I know," Bran whispered, smiling softly.

Gratitude, affection, sadness and relief washed over her, and for just a moment it felt as if her heart was too big for her chest. "I'm going to help Robb free your father and your sisters and then I am going to bring them home," she told him fiercely, her eyes blazing with her belief in her own words. She saw Bran's smile widen and briefly berated herself for making promises that she wasn't sure she could keep. It was more important than ever that they win.

"You will take three guards with you," Maester Luwin announced in the resulting silence. "And that is not up for discussion. You cannot travel hundreds of leagues on your own. You may be capable of defending yourself, but a woman traveling alone is just asking for trouble and eventually you will find it."

"Alright," Maliya agreed, nodding her head. "Thank you, Maester. Julina has been helping me gather a few things for my journey. She's packed some clothes and some food – "

A noise came from the doorway and Maliya's head snapped around to see Rickon standing there, a look of shock on his face. "You're leaving?" He accused in an angry voice as he attempted to disguise the hurt that she could so plainly see.

Panic clawing at her throat, her heart nearly stopping in her chest, Maliya leapt to her feet. "Rickon – " she tried, but he was in no mood to listen.

"You promised me that you were going to stay!" He shouted, his little face screwed up as tears welled in his eyes. "You promised!"

"Rickon," Maliya pleaded desperately, taking a step toward him with her hand outstretched. "Rickon, please, wait - !" With one last furious glare, Rickon spun on his heel and dashed out of the Maester's Tower. Maliya stared at the empty doorway in stunned disbelief, unable to comprehend how she had just managed to fuck up everything she had worked so hard for in such a short amount of time.

"Maliya?" Maester Luwin prodded gently, his face sympathetic. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Maliya murmured automatically, her voice emotionless, one hand resting on the pit in her stomach. "I'm going to find Rickon and attempt to fix things. Pick the guards that you would like to accompany me on my journey and have them meet me at the stables in an hour – I'm leaving tonight."

She left without another word, without turning around to see the looks on Bran or Maester Luwin's face. Over the past few months, Maliya had gotten to know Rickon well enough to learn the place that he retreats to when he was upset. So she headed down to the crypts, trying to rehearse what she was going to say. She couldn't ever remember feeling so nervous or worried in her whole life, and there was a large part of her that feared he would be angry with her no matter what she said.

Lifting her dress as she cautiously descended the steps of the crypts, Maliya took a deep breath before reaching the first landing. "Rickon?" Maliya called softly as her eyes grew accostomed to the darkness. "Rickon, it's Maliya. Where are you? I want to talk to you, I need to explain – "

A loud snarl came out of the darkness and Shaggydog rounded one of the corners of the empty crypts, his eyes glowing and his lip curled. Rickon trodded next to him, his hand in his fur as he stared out at Maliya distrustfully. Her heart skipped several beats as she was confronted with an angry direwolf for the first time. Eyes wide and her hands held out to the sides, Maliya spoke in a calm, even voice. "Rick, can you please tell Shaggydog to calm down – "

"He's angry with you," Rickon told her, in a matter of fact, innocent voice.

Maliya's expression was sorrowful. "No, sweetie, you're angry with me. And I don't blame you! You have every right to be mad at me, trust me – "

Rickon's abruptly face twisted at her words, looking every bit of the wild boy that people said he was becoming. "You lied to me!" He screamed, his eyes flashing as his voice echoed through the crypts. Shaggydog's rumbling snarls grew louder at his master's obvious agitation, but Maliya forced herself to stay where she was as he advanced a step further. "You promised me that you were never going to leave! You promised me you were going to stay! And now, you're leaving just like all the others and you're never coming back!"

Maliya's throat tightened, burning, as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. So many negative emotions were swirling through her at the moment that she couldn't find one to focus on. There was the obvious sadness for what Rickon was going through, the self-hatred she was feeling for making this all worse for him, and the feeling of being pulled in two different directions – one towards Robb and the other here with Bran and Rickon.

"I'm going to come back, Rickon," Maliya whispered, just loud enough for him to hear her over Shaggydog. "Winterfell is my home now – "

"Then stay here," Rickon interrupted again, his expression switching into an imploring one. He looked up at her through the darkness with wide, bright eyes, his lower lip trembling slightly. "Don't leave us."

Maliya's heart nearly broke all over again, and while part of her did want to agree with him and stay, she knew she would hate herself for it as time went on. "Robb is my husband," Maliya explained, speaking quickly as Rickon's face darkened. "And he's your oldest brother! I can't stay behind not knowing if he's alright, Rickon, please try to understand! My place is by his side – "

"Then just go!" He shouted with his hands curled into fists, startling her with his raised voice. "I don't want you here anyway!"

A tear trickled down Maliya's cheek as she desperately pleaded with him. "No, I'm not going to leave until we talk about this!" She persisted in a loud voice, trying to ignore Shaggydog's warning growls. " _Please_ , Rickon – "

"No!" He yelled back, screwing his eyes shut and putting both his hands over his ears. "No more lying! Go away, go away, go away!"

Another tear joined the first, a pain in her chest making it difficult for her to breathe. "Rickon – " she tried again, her voice cracking with emotion. She made to take a step towards him unthinkingly and realized right away that she had made a critical mistake.

Shaggydog gave one last thunderous snarl before taking a bounding leap toward her. She dimly heard Rickon shouting, "No, Shaggydog!" and only had time to let out a terrified gasp and take a fumbling step backwards, raising her hands in front of her face. Maliya felt a sharp pain in her left forearm as his claws connected with her before she hit the ground hard. She stared up with wide, terrified eyes as Shaggydog's teeth snapped an inch away from her face in warning.

"Come, Shaggy," Rickon ordered, and the direwolf reluctantly left her. Breathing hard and cradling her left arm against her chest while trying to ignore the feeling of her warm blood seeping through her fingers, Maliya sat up to watch Rickon and Shaggydog disappear deeper into the crypts. The tears were now flowing silently and freely down her cheeks, and it wasn't because of the pain, but rather the fragile relationship that she had just managed to shatter into pieces.

* * *

"My Lady, you really should have Maester Luwin look at these," Julina tried to reason with her in a soft, concerned voice.

Maliya was sitting on the edge of her and Robb's bed, staring dejectedly at the floor with her left arm held out towards Julina. "It's just a scratch, all it needs is a bandage," Maliya told her emotionlessly, wincing only slightly as Julina cleaned the the three claw marks on her arm. "Besides, I don't know what Maester Luwin would do if he knew that Rickon's direwolf attacked someone. I've already broken Rickon's trust and furthered his abadonment issues, I don't want to also be responsible for losing the one thing that he feels he has left."

Julina's face was sympathetic and Maliya found that it was an expression that she hated. She finished tying the bandage around Maliya's arm and patted her hand comfortingly. "He's too young now, My Lady, but one day Rickon will be able to understand what you're doing and why."

"I'll explain it all again when I get back," Maliya mused out loud, more to herself than for Julina's benefit. "I wish that I could take the time to stay and make him understand, but with everyday that passes, it's just another battle for Robb as he marches further and further South." She sat there in silence for a long moment before shaking her head to clear her thoughts. "Right. I would appreciate it if you would help me into this new outfit you designed as quickly as possible, because I'm sure my hour is up and Maester Luwin is waiting at the stables with the guards he has chosen."

"Of course, My Lady," Julina murmured, bowing her head. Once Maliya had slipped on the makeshift dress, riding leggings and flat heeled boots, Julina walked over to the bags and picked up the one that Maliya had hidden the dragon egg in.

"Did you put anything else in here?" Julina asked with a frown, testing the bag's weight. "It's a bit heavier than I remember."

"Here, I'll take it," Maliya told her quickly, pulling the bag over her shoulder before Julina could protest. "It's really not a problem, Julina, I have to get used to carrying my own things anyway."

Julina knew better than to protest and wordlessly picked up the other bag of food before turning to face Maliya. They stared at each other in silence for a moment and it looked like Julina was warring with herself. "I know I've already said this, but it truly has been a pleasure to serve you and to get to know you."

Maliya surprised both herself and Julina by pulling her into a tight hug. Although she blamed most of it on how emotional she was feeling right now, Maliya really did appreciate Julina. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," Julina smiled with slightly watery eyes. "Now come, we musn't keep them waiting."

When they left the castle and walked out into the night, she found the men already there and waiting for her. Three guards and their horses stood next to an already saddled Shadow, as well as Maester Luwin who looked solemn and was holding a torch and Hodor, who was carrying Bran. It was a scene that reminded her entirely too much of the night that Robb had left.

"Evening, My Lady," Maester Luwin greeted in a quiet voice. "I have acquired the services of Colrin, Dontar and Bennar for your journey south. They have vowed to do everything in their power to see that you safely make it to Lord Robb."

"Thank you," Maliya told them graciously, giving a small smile to the guard who took the bags from her and Julina to tie them to Shadow's saddle. "Good-bye Bran," she murmured, turning to the small boy and placing a hand on his cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "I will see you soon, I hope. Take care of your brother."

"I will," Bran promised solemnly, accepting the responsibility. "Tell Robb – tell him that I said hello."

Maliya nodded, looking up at the big man. "Bye Hodor."

"Hodor," he replied sadly.

She moved on to Maester Luwin. "How did it go with Rickon?" Maester Luwin asked quietly. He sighed as Maliya slowly shook her head. "I feared as much."

"He's angry, angrier than I've ever seen him," Maliya whispered, shaking her head in concern. "He feels as if everyone has left him and in a way, I suppose they have. Except he doesn't think that any of us are ever going to come back."

"Well, you would do well to prove him wrong," Maester Luwin encouraged, raising his eyebrows pointedly before pulling her into a hug. "Safe travels, My Lady."

"Thank you, Maester Luwin." Maliya turned to Shadow, running her hand along his neck and side before putting a foot in the stirrup and swinging her leg over the saddle, marveling at how easy the move was in this new "dress." Her newfound guards followed suit and Maliya looked down at the rest of them, raising her hand in farewell before looking at her new home one last time.

Grabbing Shadow's reins, she turned Shadow around and gently pushed her heels into his sides, following her guards out through the gates of Winterfell and towards her husband.

* * *

 **Cat's POV**

 _He has an old man's caution, a young man's ambition and he never lacked for cunning._ Catelyn Stark's own words bounced around inside her head as she rode beside Ser Stevron Frey, Lord Walder's heir and a man well into his sixties as well as two other sons that she did not recognize. It was going to take all of her wit and cunning in order to negotiate safe crossing for Robb and his army. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Lord Frey held all the power. Robb needed to cross the river quickly in order to aid Riverrun and she wondered just what price they were going to have to pay.

"Lady Stark, My Lord," Ser Stevron announced as they walked into a Great Hall empty of any tables. Lord Frey, a frail ninety year old man, was sitting in a large chair on the other side of the room, all of his children and most of his grandchildren sitting on benches on either side of him. His significantly younger wife was standing at his side, her expression a mixture of fear and humiliation as her husband's hand gently caressed her backside. Catelyn felt a pang of pity for the younger girl.

"What do you want?" Lord Frey snapped rudely, sneering at her.

Catelyn took a deep breath, gathering all of her patience in order to get through this. "It is a great pleasure to see you again after so many years, My Lord – "

"Oh, spare me," Lord Frey interrupted, waving his hand. "Your boy is too proud to come before me himself so he sends his mother in his stead."

"Father," Ser Stevron spoke up with a reproachful look, while a few of his siblings sent each other uncomfortable glances. "You forget yourself. Lady Stark is here – "

Lord Frey rolled his eyes. "You are not Lord Frey yet, not until I die. Do I look dead to you?" In the brief moment of silence that followed, Lord Frey huffed a sigh of impatience and waved her forward, taking her hand and placing a chaste kiss to the back of it. She fought a grimace. "Now, what do you want?"

"To ask you to open your gates so my son and his bannerman can cross the Trident and be on their way," Catelyn answered politely, all too aware of the large number of ears listening to their conversation.

" _Heh_ ," Lord Frey snickered, his eyes cold and calculating. "On their way to Riverrun. Oh yes, I'm not blind yet, I know what's been going on."

 _And yet here you sit,_ Catelyn thought sarcastically. "To Riverrun, yes," Catelyn confirmed, tilting her head to the side. "I might have expected to find you there lending aid, My Lord. You are still my father's bannerman, are you not?"

"I called my swords, did you not see them on my walls? It was my intent to have my sons march as soon as all my strength was assembled, was it not?" Several of his sons nodded in agreement. "It's not my fault that your fool of a brother lost the battle before we could get there. Why should I hurry and send my sons to die?"

 _Patience,_ Catelyn reminded herself as her anger swelled inside her. _Patience._ Keeping a pleasant expression on her face, she spoke again. "Please, My Lord, is there somewhere we can talk in private?"

"We're talking now," Lord Frey complained, displeased. "Out, out! All of you, out! Yes, even you wife," he sneered when she glanced down at him uncertainly. She jumped as he slapped her bottom before hurrying out the door with his eyes down. "Now, say what you came here to say," Lord Frey ordered once the room was clear.

"I have already requested that let my son and his bannerman cross the Trident. They have twenty thousand men at your gates, which you would be able to see if you were strong enough to climb the battlements – "

"Twenty thousand dead men once Lord Tywin gets here," Lord Frey corrected in amusement, irritating her even further. "Don't you try and frighten me, Lady Stark. Your father lies sick, your brother a prisoner, your husband in a cell and your son doesn't have enough fur to keep his balls warm."

"You swore an oath to my father – " Catelyn tried to remind him, switching tactics.

Lord Freys smirk only grew. "Oh yes, I said some words. But then again, I also said some words to the crown. The way I see it, you and your boy are rising up against the King and that makes you all rebels. I could hand you over to the Lannisters in an instant."

Catelyn was quickly losing the patience that she was struggling to retain. "Why don't you?" She challenged without thinking.

Lord Frey's face contorted into a sneer of disdain. "Mighty Lord Tywin, Warden of the West and Hand of the King. He eats, sleeps and shits just like the rest of us. He's only got two sons and one of them is a twisted little monster! I would have nineteen and a _half_ more than him when his are dead! That bloody lion can _ask_ for help if he needs it."

Cately saw her chance and jumped on it. "But that is why I am here, my Lord. My family and I need your help – "

"Your family has been pissing on me for decades," Lord Frey snorted, eyes narrowing. "Your lord father didn't come to my wedding, even if he is dying, but he didn't come to the last one either. I know that he calls me the Late Lord Frey – did he think I was dead and wouldn't find out? It's just plain disrespectful if you ask me. I'm going to outlive your father just as I outlived his," he cackled, making the hairs on the back of Catelyn's neck stand up. "You say you want to cross the river? Well, you can't! The Tullys and the Starks have never been friends of mine. Why should I allow it?"

Catelyn watched him push himself back in his chair and cross his arms as he waited for an answer. Catelyn found herself wanting to cross her own arms in response but she refrained. _This was it._ "Let's say that you allow my son and his bannermen to cross the Trident, adding the men that you have gathered to his army – "

"I would require four hundred of my men to stay behind for my protection," Lord Frey interrupted, holding up a hand.

"Understood," Catelyn agreed, inclining her head. She was almost afraid to hear the answer to her next question. "What would you request in return for our safe crossing?"

Lord Frey's eyes glittered dangerously, and the corners of his lip twitched up into a smirk. "One of my sons, Olyvar, will become Lord Robb's squire. He's young now, but I expect a knighthood in good time." Catelyn nodded slowly, examining his request from every angle to look for hidden traps. So far, the request sounded reasonable. "It's a pity that your boy is already married to that Dornish girl," Lord Frey continued, gripping the armrest of the chair as he leaned forward, his eyes alight. "Though from what I hear she's quite beautiful, with a tight little body and perky tits," he sniggered, actually licking his lips. "My daughters may not have been as pretty, but he could have had his choice from the lot of them."

"A most generous offer, My Lord," Catelyn responded after a moment, her stomach turning with revulsion, feeling incredibly thankful that Robb was already married to Maliya.

"Yes, it would have been," Lord Frey agreed in a superior voice. "Your eldest girl is betrothed to the King, but what about your other daughter?"

"Arya," Catelyn told him reluctantly, thinking quickly. "She's still in King's Landing." No one was quite sure where she was at the moment, but King's Landing was the last place she was seen, at least.

"Your girl will marry my son Waldron when they both come of age," Lord Frey demanded, his beady eyes watching her every reaction closely. "And I'd like to expand my territory. I have too many bloody sons and daughters, grandson and granddaughters, I don't know what to do with them all."

Catelyn was shaking her head before he had even finished speaking. "I cannot make that decision. Those lands would have to be renegotiated with the neighboring lords and that could take months. If I could offer another suggestion?" She asked, noticing the look on his face. "I have another son – "

Lord Frey scoffed, looking offended. "You can't mean the cripple boy! I will not sit here and be insulted if you mean to suggest – "

"I can assure you I do not," Catelyn interjected in a raised voice, trying to hide her fury on behalf of her son. By the look on Lord Freys face, she didn't succeed. "My youngest son, Rickon. He's still very young, but a match between him and one of your granddaughters would be beneficial."

"Fine, fine," Lord Frey agreed uncaringly, waving a hand. "Two of my grandsons, both named Walder thanks to their bloody mothers, will be fostered at Winterfell as wards of your family." Lord Frey paused, but there was a glint in his eye that told her he wasn't quite finished yet. _What more could he possibly ask for?_ Catelyn thought, mystified and incredulous. _He's already gotten two marriages, a squire and two fosterlings in less than five minutes!_ "Has Lord Robb put a son in his Dornish wife's belly yet?" He asked specutively.

Catelyn frowned at the question. "I couldn't say. Why do you ask, My Lord?"

"In return for fostering my grandsons, Lord Robb's first born son will be fostered here at the Twins when he reaches his tenth nameday," Lord Frey proclaimed, his smirk wide at her obvious shock. He watched her as her mind raced, trying to discover all the implications of what he was demanding.

In order to secure Robb's position as Lord of Winterfell, he and Maliya needed to have an heir, preferably a son. If they did have a son, they would lose him to the Twins at age ten and he would have a difficult time learning how to be the next Lord of Winterfell. Catelyn hesitated before answering. "That would be my grandson, My Lord," she told him in a serious voice. "I don't believe I have the authority – "

Lord Frey shrugged uncaringly. "Then I don't believe I can permit Lord Robb to cross the Trident – "

"Fine," Catelyn practically snarled. "I agree to your terms. But my son is Lord and in charge of the Northern army. Give me an hour to speak with him and we will send you our final answer."

Lord Frey's grin widened, and Catelyn found she hated the pleased look on his face. "I will send Ser Stevron to accompany you back to your son. I am so glad we were able to come to an agreement, Lady Stark. I eagerly await the time when we can officially join our families together."

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

"If Lord Frey denies our crossing, what are our other options?" Robb asked the people surrounding him, bracing his hands on the table as he leaned over the map.

"We could take the Twins by force," Theon suggested again. "We have the numbers – "

"It would take too long," Lord Umber disagreed, shaking his head. "We could always find the shallowest point of the Trident and swim across. The horses would have no trouble and we could build rafts for anything heavy."

Frustration leaked through Robb and he slammed his hands down on the table, making the men around him jump in surprise. "Both options would take too long! Rivverrun is in need of our help _now_. If we don't cross the Trident as soon as possible, then Jaime Lannister is going to take the castle."

"That is not going to happen," a female voice said, and they looked over to see Lady Catelyn entering the tent, escorted by a guard.

Robb felt his heart begin to pound in anticipation. "Mother," he greeted, inclining his head. "How was the meeting? What toll is Lord Frey demanding?"

"Lord Frey has granted you your crossing," his mother told him, and there was a collective sigh of relief from the Lords sitting around the table. Robb didn't relax, however, knowing there way more to come. He watched his mother's eyes flick around the table, waiting to see if he would dismiss the Lord's to hear the news in privacy. When he didn't, she continued. "In order to cross the Trident, Lord Frey has demanded a number of things. First, you will take his son, Olyvar, as your squire. He expects a knighthood in good time."

"Fine," Robb answered impatiently, part of him waiting to hear some really bad news. "What else?"

"Two of his grandsons, both named Walder, are going to be fostered at Winterfell. Lord Frey would appreciate it if you could spare a few guards to accompany them."

"What else, mother?" Robb pressed, sensing the unease in the expression on her face. "Tell me all of it."

His mother took a deep breath, her face drawn. "When Arya comes of age, she will marry one of Lord Frey's sons, and Rickon will marry one of his daughters. And…" she hesitated, her eyebrows drawn together in a sympathetic expression. "Your first born son will be fostered at the Twins when he reaches ten years of age."

There was a long moment of silence and then the tent erupted in outrage, everyone trying to talk over each other. "Fostered at the Twins?" Lord Umber roared, spittle flying out of his mouth. "It's a bloody insult that's what it is – "

Theon looked paler than usual, though his eyes were narrowed in disgust. "You cannot allow this Robb. Your son will be heir to Winterfell, you need to be the one to raise him – "

"The Frey's are a lesser house than yours, My Lord," Roose Bolton advised in his cold, detached voice. "Lord Frey knows what he is asking, he knows the position he is putting you in – "

And while his bannermen were shouting their advice at him, Robb was all too aware of his mother's sympathetic gaze. "Enough," Robb muttered, his head swimming. Robb's first, automatic instinct was deny Lord Frey's request, to protect his future son. The old bastard obviously knew the importance of having an heir, recognized an opportunity to weaken the Stark house, and took it. And then, on the other hand, it felt extremely surreal to have to think about a son that he didn't even have yet. His head began to pound as his bannermen continued to talk. "Enough!" Robb shouted again, raising his voice to be heard and slamming a fist on the table for good measure, feeling a slight sense of relief when they all fell silent at once. His eyes met his mother's. "If I were to refuse?"

"Then we don't cross," his mother answered simply.

Feeling the weight of his army and his unborn son on his shoulders all while trying not to think of his wife's reaction to what he was doing, Robb shoved his emotions to the side and focused on what needed to be done. "Send word to Lord Frey and tell him that I consent to his terms."

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

Her legs were incredibly sore, her muscles unaccustomed to riding on horseback at this pace for this long, but Maliya barely paid it any mind. Each and every one of Shadow's strides brought her closer to Robb and she could feel her excitement growing with every step. She knew he would be absolutely furious when he saw her, but she missed him so much that she almost didn't care.

The depth and strength of her emotion surprised even her. She knew she had wanted to be with Robb because she couldn't stand not knowing what was happening to him, but examining it further, she found that she missed just being with him. She refused to think too closely about how she was turning into one of those sappy women who did nothing but pine for the men that they loved.

Maliya's gaze refocused as the lead guard, Bennar, slowed his pace down to a walk, waiting for Maliya and Shadow to catch up with him. "My Lady," he said, bowing his head respectfully. "We are almost at the Twins."

Maliya frowned in confusion. "Robb has eighteen thousand men with him, we should have reached their camp by now if we're almost at the Twins."

Bennar nodded and signaled to the other two guards who fanned out around them, keeping their eyes on their surroundings and any incoming dangers. "I believe that Lord Robb and his bannermen successfully acquired passage from Lord Frey to cross the Trident, which is not an easy thing to do."

"Why not?" Maliya questioned, trying to remember everything her father had told her about the Lord of the Twins. The only thing that she could think of in this moment was the fact that his whispered nickname was the 'Late Lord Frey.'

The older man answered her questions patiently. "Because Lord Frey is a greedy bastard – " He abruptly stopped talking, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Pardon my language, My Lady," he apologized, before continuing on when Maliya merely smiled and waved him on. "Six generations ago the Frey's built the bridge that spands across the Trident, and ever since, they've been exacting tolls on whomever wishes to cross. It has made their house quite wealthy."

Now Maliya was beginning to grow worried. "What kind of toll?"

Bennar shrugged. "It could be anything; money, marriages, land." He hesitated. "May I speak freely, My Lady?"

"Of course."

"Going to deal with Lord Frey will take time, and the gods only know what he's going to ask you to give in exchange for a crossing."

"What are you suggesting, Bennar?" Maliya asked curiously. "The only other crossing that I know if is the Ruby Ford and that's entirely too far away."

"I agree. Lord Robb probably couldn't have done this due to the size of his army, but before the bridges were built, the soldiers used to build rafts to hold their heavy armor while they and their horses swam across. I suggest we avoid the Twins all together and find the shallowest part of the Trident in order to cross. We'll only need one raft for our gear and Dontar and Colrin can help me. It shouldn't take too long."

Maliya looked down at Shadow's reins, thinking quickly. "Alright," she nodded after a moment, her face determined. "Let's do it. But we need to do it quickly and it's imperative that we aren't seen. We'll wait till night falls and cross under the cover of the darkness. If Lord Frey is as everyone says he is then I don't want him to know that we're going to be crossing the Trident without his knowledge."

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

Robb was once again standing at the head of the table, hovering over it as his eyes danced across the map. They had set up camp briefly after crossing the Trident, just to gather their forces and finalize their plan. All of Robb's bannermen sat at the table around him in silence, watching him as he thought. "Alright, this is our finalized plan Robb announced, finally speaking up. "We've been in contact with Ser Marq Piper, who has been raiding the Lannister supply trains since they attacked Riverrun. Under the disguise of Tully colors, we're going to send a few hundred men with his own to lure the Kingslayer and his men here, into the Whispering Wood." Robb pointed out the location on the map. "Lady Mormont will wait until the Lannister army is in position and she will alert the rest of us to attack. Lord Umber, Lord Karstark, Ser Stevron and Lord Mallister, you will each command your own men. Lord Bolton has already left with 2,000 of his own men to keep Lord Tywin occupied while we attack his son. Any questions?" The tent was still silent, the gravity of the situation evident on their faces. "Good. We march within the hour. Dismissed."

The tension in his shoulders lessened as his bannermen strolled out of the command tent one by one, clapping him on the back as they went off to prepare themselves for war. His eyes were back on the map, running through the plan over and over in his mind. If everyone played their part properly, the execution should be perfect. Bolton would keep Lord Tywin distracted and the Kingslayer would be lured into a trap.

"You are doing well." Robb started and looked up, unaware that his mother had stayed behind after everyone else had left. She was coming around the table toward him, a proud smile on her face but a sad look in her eyes. "You remind me so much of your father. How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling fine," Robb answered distractedly, his mind still on the map and the fight to come. "A little anxious and a little nervous but ready."

"It was a smart plan to have Olyvar help you with your battle armor before the meeting," his mother nodded, her face thoughtful. "They definitely – "

Theon suddenly burst into the tent, his eyes dancing and a giant smile on his face. "Sorry for interrupting," he began, not sounding sorry in the least. He actually sounded like he was trying to hold back laughter. "Our sentries have spotted four riders heading in our direction. You'll never guess who it is."

Robb frowned. "Well from the shit eating grin on your face, it's more likely friend than foe," he muttered while trying to think, sharing a bewildered glance with his mother. "Who is it?"

Theon's grin grew. "Come see for yourself. I can't tell if she's really brave or really stupid," he answered, actually snickering before leaving the tent again.

"She?" His mother questioned quietly. Something dawned in her eyes a moment later and with a curious look on her face she followed Theon.

 _She…._ From Theon's reaction it was obviously someone that he knew, and that meant it was probably someone that he himself knew. _Really brave or really stupid_ … There was only one face that popped into Robb's mind, but there was no possible way that she would disobey him – with an inward snort, knowing that's exactly what she would do, Robb hurried out of the tent.

His heart was pounding in anticipation, torn between hoping that it was her even though she would be putting herself in serious danger. He walked as quickly as he could without breaking into a run, heading for the the center of the camp, his eyes flicked from face to face dismissing them each in turn when it wasn't the one he was looking for.

His head snapped around as the sound of horses echoed through the camp and there she was, her beautiful, proud face searching for him just as he had been searching for her. For a moment he worried about her reaction to him, remembering that the last time they had seen each other, she had been furious with him and he had blurted that he loved her. When her brown eyes met his, a chill ran down his spine and when her face split in a radiant smile, his heart positively soared.

Feeling strangely breathless, he watched her pull her horse to a stop and gracefully slide off him. They stared at each other for a moment, both of them drinking in the other eagerly. The rest of the people surrounding them faded into the background, and Robb only had time to take in her strange, form fitting dress complete with leggings before the moment broke and they started towards each other. It started out as a walk, but as the distance between them closed, both of them broke into a run until they collided with one another, her arms wrapped around his neck and his aroud her waist.

He buried his head in her neck, breathing in the scent of her and hardly daring to believe that this was happening. But he could feel her body pressed against his, could feel her hair as one of his hands twisted in it, pulling back only slightly so he could crash his lips to hers, and seven hells he felt that all the way down to his toes. He kissed her soundlessly and thoroughly, until both of them had to pull away, gasping for air.

It was only then that he became aware of the catcalls and wolf whistles from the dozens on men watching, most of them led by Theon. Still holding Maliya close to him, Robb couldn't stop the grin on his face as he waved at them for silence. "Alright, you dirty bastards, that's enough. Hope you enjoyed the show, but we have a battle to prepare for and win!"

As the men began to cheer once more, Robb wrapped an arm around Maliya's waist and led her to his tent. Maliya briefly glanced around, her mouth splitting into a smile as Greywind trotted up to her, licking her hand as she bent down to pet him, tongue lolling out of his mouth as she scratched behind his ears. "Bloody hell, Greywind, what has Robb been feeding you, hmm?" Maliya murmured, pressing a kiss to his nose. "I think you've grown twice the size since I saw you last."

Robb couldn't take his eyes off her. "I think he's missed you just as much as I have," he told her, watching his wolf nuzzle his wife.

Maliya stood at the sound of his voice before turning to face him. "I know that you're probably furious with me, but I don't follow orders very well for one and for another I needed to – "

He cut her off again with another kiss, his hands cupping her cheeks, quickly falling into her, drowning in the taste and feel of her and feeling incredibly intoxicated by it. He wanted nothing more than to rip this odd outfit off of her, but there was no way he could forget about the impending battle.

"You shouldn't be here," Robb panted, pulling away and pressing his forehead against hers. His eyes fluttered shut when her nails scratched lightly against his scalp as she sweetly pressed her lips to his again, slowly sucking on his lower lip and making him groan, clutching at her hips.

"I disagree," Maliya smiled lightly, her voice soft as she played with the hairs on the back of his neck. She looked up at him, her eyes serious as she tilted her head to the side. "Wherever you are is wherever I should be."

Robb's gaze softened. "We're about to march into battle, Maliya – "

"I couldn't just stay behind, locked away when I didn't know what was happening to you, Robb," Maliya interrupted, her voice slightly impatient. "You can try and send me back to Winterfell, but it will have to be in chains because I swear to you right now that I will escape every single time."

Robb couldn't help but shake his head in admiration at the apparent passion in her voice and the fire blazing in her eyes, even while frustration at her disobedience ran through him. "This discussion isn't over, _wife_ ," he promised, his voice firm. "But now isn't the time. I have to lead my men into battle and I'm going to need you to stay here. Safe."

Maliya nodded in compliance and Robb paused, looking down at her suspiciously. "Really?" He asked, perplexed. "I was preparing myself for a fight."

Maliya's hands fixed his hair and straightened his armor. "No fight as long as you give me the chance to convince you to let me stay when you get back safely." Her eyes were blazing once more. "And you better come back to me safely, do you hear me?"

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

As soon as Robb left the tent, a slightly dazed look on his face and his lips significantly more swollen than when he had entered, Maliya had her bags fetched and used the distraction of the men preparing for war to her advantage. She felt a little bad that she was lying to Robb yet again, but she was also going to do everything she could to help keep him safe. She fished out the chainmail and leather armor that Julina had smuggled for her and slipped it on, tying her sword around her waist like a soldier would. After making sure that her hair was tied back and hidden in her armor, and after making sure her bags were hidden beneath the bed, she slipped out the back of Robb's tent and headed for Shadow, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible.

She swiped a helmet lying on the floor on the way, and while it was a little big for her, it would do the job of covering her face perfectly. She looked like all the other soliders now, albeit a small, skinny one. The horse whinnied nervously as she approached, obviously not recognizing her. "Easy, boy," Maliya murmured, approaching him slowly and holding out her hand for him to sniff. "That's it, Shadow, it's just me," she whispered as he nuzzled her hand and allowed her to pet his neck.

"Hey!" One of the guards shouted when she utied Shadows reigns from the nearby post. "What are you doing with Lady Maliya's horse?"

Maliya's heart sped up, praying that the guard wouldn't recognize her. Clearing her throat, Maliya deepened her voice and said, "Lady Maliya has requested her horse be brought to her so that she can see her husband off to battle." The guard still looked unconvinced and Maliya pushed a little further. "Do you want to go and question her? I'm sure she would – "

"No," the guard cut in gruffly and Maliya had to suppress a grin. She wouldn't want to question her own orders either. "Hurry up and be on your way."

Maliya saluted the man, making him frown, and went on her way. It was only when the guard was out of sight that she swung her leg up over Shadow's saddle. She urged him forward, easily slipping into the ranks of Robb's men as they started forward into the night, silent for once as they prepared for the big fight.

And what a fight it was. She had never seen such a large group of men and horses move so silently through the woods or wait so quietly for the signal to attack. She could smell the sweat, the excitement and the fear from the men surrounding her as they waited in the darkness. She kept a safe distance from Robb, but close enough that she could keep an eye on him and when a horn sounded, the men around her surged forwards, raising their swords as they moved to attack the group of several hundred men who had just entered the woods.

War was far different than she had imagined. While the adrenaline did pump through her body at a startling rate, in the beginning it was slightly difficult to block out the sounds of the men's dying gasps, groans and screams. She had to try harder than she thought she would to block it from her mind, concentrating on surviving.

The battle didn't end up lasting long at all. The Kingslayer's forces were significantly outnumbered, and when he realized this, Maliya saw him rally his men around him and begin to cut through their opponents, headed directly for Robb. "Kill the Young Wolf!" He shouted, spurring his horse forward. "Kill him!"

"Not a fucking chance," Maliya grunted, gritting her teeth as she sliced her sword through her opponents neck before swinging Shadow around and moving towards Robb. She cut her way through the crowd, desperately trying to move faster, cursing everyone in her way as she watched the Kingslayer kill several of Robb's lords and personal guards. She heard Greywind before she saw him, leaping from opponent to opponent, his muzzle bloody and his snarls loud. The horses shied away at the sight of him, and more than one rider was thrown.

Maliya urged Shadow forward as the Kingslayer killed yet another northerner, blocking his way as he tried to get to Robb, who was dealing with two men of his own. Jaime Lannister snorted when he saw her, clearly dismissing her as an easy kill. There was nothing that she appreciated more than the look of shock on the face of the man who had murdered her grandather. His eyes narrowed when she successfully blocked and parried each of his swings, though it only took a few seconds for her to realize that the Kingslayer was just as good of a fighter as her Uncle Oberyn.

She would need every inch of her wits about her and she knew she wasn't as skilled at combat on horseback as he was, so when their swords locked, Maliya pushed against him with all her strength and launched herself off Shadow's back, tackling the Kingslayer off his horse, both of them landing hard on the ground.

Maliya immediately rolled out of the way, half her vision obscured by the too large helmet that had twisted sideways on her head. Left with no other choice, realizing that she was now fighting for her life, Maliya tore the helmet off with her free hand and took a deep breath.

The Kingslayer was already on his feet, a look of confusion on his face. He pointed his sword at her, frowning. "Aren't you the Young Wolf's wife?" He questioned, tilting his head to the side as he tried to place her face.. "Why are you dressed like a man?"

 _Were they not in the middle of a battle?_ "It's a new fashion style that I thought I'd try out," Maliya retorted, twirling her sword and tensing her muscles.

The Kingslayer smirked at her. "You were much more appealing in a dress," he taunted before springing forward and engaging her once more. It was very much like fighting her uncle – his moves were more advanced than hers and he was faster and stronger than her. It took all of her strength and skills to keep him at bay, and even with that she was on the defensive more often than not. Her breath hissed through her teeth as his sword sliced right through the leather she wore, cutting into the bicep on her left arm and she staggered back, panting. "You're good, My Lady," The Kingslayer complimented, and she was gratified to see that he was out of breath too, at least. "Trained by your uncle, I presume. What a pity that you're just not quite good enough."

Maliya looked at the blood trickling down her arm, gritting her teeth against the pain. "You're lucky that wasn't my sword arm," she seethed as he started forward once more. A hair raising snarl came from her right and Greywind came skidding to a halt in front of her, snapping at the Kingslayer with his hackles raised.

The Kingslayer stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide as both he and Maliya became aware of their surroundings once more. Robb, Theon, Lord Umber and several other lords stood in a circle around them. "It's over, Kingslayer," Robb announced, gesturing to the area surrounding them, strewn with bodies clad in Lannister red. "Drop your sword and surrender."

"Never," he snarled, lunging forward once more, but Robb's men converged on him, kicking his sword from his hand and throwing in more than a few punches until they forced the Kingslayer into submission, blood running down his face.

"Bind him," Robb ordered. He was wearing his emotionless 'Lord Robb' face, but a quick sweep with her eyes told Maliya that he was generally unharmed and that sent a wave of relief through her. His men hurried to follow his orders, putting the Kingslayer in chains and leading him away. "Gather the wounded and bring them back to camp," he continued, and a sinking feeling spread through her when she realized that Robb hadn't looked at her once.

"Robb – " She tried, taking a step forward, but freezing when she saw his jaw clench at the sound of her voice and his eyes harden. She had never seen him so angry and she wondered if she had officially pushed him over the edge.

Robb turned to Theon. "Escort Lady Maliya back to camp and see to it that someone stitches up her arm. I'll deal with her later."

Maliya had to physically bite her tongue to stop the retort from leaving her lips, knowing that it would just make him angrier and undermine his authority in front of his men. So she said nothing, sheathing her sword and turning away, brushing her hand along Greywind's head. "Thanks for the assist, Grey," she murmured before following Theon back to Shadow and back to camp.

* * *

"You know, for a woman you have a bigger pair of balls than most men in the Seven Kingdoms," Theon commented from where he stood on the other side of the tent, his arms crossed and his ever present smirk on his face. Theon had brought her to Robb's tent and ordered an infirmary nurse to treat her. The nurse had helped her out of the leather armor and then cut off the sleeve of her shirt to protect her modesty and gain access to her arm.

"That's not exactly difficult to do," Maliya retorted, rolled her eyes then wincing as one of the women who ran the infirmary finished stitching up her arm, which surprisingly didn't look as terrible as it felt, and began to bandage it.

"You know you're in some serious shit, right?" Theon continued, sounding completely unconcerned. "You should have seen the look on Robb's face when he realized that you not only were fighting in the battle but were dueling against the Kingslayer. That was some fancy fighting, by the way, not many people would last that long against him."

"It was incredibly stupid that's what it was." Robb was suddenly standing at the entrance to his tent and the look on his face was thunderous. "Leave us. Both of you."

Theon sent her a sympathetic look as the nurse bowed her head to Robb before they left and then it was just the two of them. Nerves fluttered through her stomach and Maliya had to fight the urge to fidget uncomfortably. "Alright I know that you're furious with me – "

"Furious?" Robb repeated in a strained voice, his blue eyes flashing. "I am so beyond furious with you, Maliya! You disobeyed me _again,_ putting your life in danger _again_!" His voice rose several octaves and with it her own temper. "Why can't you just do as you're told – "

"Because I don't follow orders, Robb, least of all from you!" Maliya snapped, leaping to her feet and curling her hands into fists, ignoring the sharp pain in her arm as she did so. "How many times do we have to go through this?" She yelled, wanting to shake him. "We are supposed to be partners in this marriage, that is what we both agreed upon! You can't just lock me away and claim that you're only doing it to protect me!"

Robb strode further into the room, moving closer so that he was glaring down at her. "I _am_ doing it to protect you and I do need you safe – "

"And I need you to be safe!" She shouted, interrupting him once more. "I couldn't stand being left behind at Winterfell while you were out here fighting, not knowing whether you were alive or dead! I would drive myself insane thinking about it and I had nightmares of your death!"

"Maliya – "

"No, you're going to shut up and listen for once," Maliya ordered, shoving him back so that he was forced to sit on the bed as she began to pace in front of him, trying desperately to gather her thoughts. This wasn't how she pictured doing this, but she needed to make him understand. "You left me Robb, you told me that you loved me and then you left. You have to understand that love was never something that I wanted or expected with our arranged marriage, and you caught me off guard. I didn't know how to respond and I didn't know what to think for a long time. And then I couldn't sleep without you holding me, I couldn't stop worrying about you and what you were doing. You consumed my every thought, Robb, and it wasn't until I saw you die in that dream that I realized what had happened. I would rather risk my life here with you, by your side, than live a half life without you because I love you, you stupid wolf," she cried, throwing up her hands in exasperation. Robb slowly stood, looking stunned, and Maliya felt all the fight leaving her body, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off her. "Maybe love is a risk," she murmured, walking up to him and putting her hands on his chest. "But it's a risk that I am willing to take. I never thought I would, never thought I _could_ love someone like this, but I fell in love with you. I fought it. It's the first battle I didn't mind losing."

The anger was erased from Robb's face, and this time his eyes blazed with triumph, a look of awe and wonder etched on his face. His right hand tenderly brushed against her cheek, the other sneaking around her waist to pull her closer. "I have missed you so much, Princess," he murmured in a hoarse voice, bending down to kiss her.

Maliya pushed against his chest, evading his lips as she quirked an eyebrow, looking up at him and feeling happier than she could ever remember. Her body felt light and warm and she couldn't believe that her heart felt so full. "Is that all?" She teased, unable to stop herself from smiling.

His eyes were full of warmth and love as his fingers clutched at her hips and he said what she needed to hear. "I love you, you stubborn, impossible woman," he told her in an anguished, honest voice. "In an all consuming way that completely defies reason."

" _Raqnon ao_ ," Maliya murmured, linking her hands behind Robb's head and lifting herself onto her tiptoes and sighing contentedly as his lips met hers. They had defeated the Kingslayer and they were reunited once more – together, there was nothing that they couldn't accomplish.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I personally am very pleased with the way this chapter came out and I hope you guys are too! I may or may not have been crying when writing the scene with Rickon, that poor little boy just breaks my heart.**

 **Next chapter is the last one in season 1 already! It's going to be a big one too: Maliya and Robb get… reacquainted, they receive some news from down South, Robb tells Maliya about the Frey deal and Maliya has an unlikely friend. Oh and there's also a special scene from Dorne as well as King's Landing :) Is there anything you guys would like to see happen with Maliya in season 2?**

Guest 1 – No you're amazeballs, haha thanks for reviewing! I'm so happy you're enjoying my story and I hope you liked this chapter too!

Samantha – Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you're pleased with Maliya's decision to join Robb and his army, I wonder what she'll change….

Guest 2 – Thank you! We'll catch a glimpse of Dorne's reaction next chapter, promise! As for Rickon – I hope you didn't cry as much as I did! I just felt so bad for him and so mad at Maliya!

Boramir – Good point! I hadn't thought about it much until I read your review, so thank you for that! We wouldn't want anyone to be fed to Grey Wind lol.

louise – Thanks for your review, I'm glad you loved the chapter! I hope this chapter captured your short attention span as well haha. As for the dragon – I'm not giving any hints!

Guest 3 – So glad you loved the chapter! Thanks for your review!

Guest 4 – I'm sorry you feel that way and I know many people aren't pleased that Maliya isn't pregnant – then again, I'm not here to please everyone. I'm here to tell my story as I imagine it and while I of course want everyone to enjoy it, I know that it is not possible. As far as her character development…. You are the first person who has mentioned that you think she is obnoxious, and I have to admit I don't quite see it. The only thing I can say to that is we are only 15 chapters into this story. Maliya has flaws and they are not going to change that quickly. I hope you continue to read the story, but if not, I understand.

Guest 5 – Thanks for your review! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter and hope you liked Robb's reaction to seeing her!

Guest 6 – Thanks for reviewing, I'm so glad you love the story and am grateful for all your kind words. I can't tell you how happy I am that you feel Maliya's character changes and grows. You are also the first person who thinks I made the right decision regarding her pregnancy! Maliya knows that if she were to become pregnant, she wouldn't be able to accomplish half of what she wanted to. Don't apologize for any mistakes – I can't wait to see what you think of this chapter!


	16. The King in the North

**Author's Note: Hey everybody, thank you so much for the amazing reviews! I'm so thrilled that everyone seems to be enjoying the story so far – I'm so excited to write each and every chapter. I hope you guys like this one as well! Special thanks to mcummings329 for reading through this and answering my questions!**

 **Don't forget to review :)**

* * *

Chapter 16: King in the North

 **Robb's POV**

His fingers dug into the sides of his wife's thighs, gritting his teeth against the overwhelming pleasure and trying desperately to hold back as she rode him, lifting and rolling her hips in the most erotic way. He could feel how close she was in the way she fluttered around him, in how her nails dug in to his chest and the way her throaty moans grew louder. He loved how uninhibited she was when they were like this, her noises unchecked and every movement performed because she wanted to, not because she was trying to impress him.

"Robb," she whimpered throatily, her eyelashes fluttering. A growl rumbled deep in his chest as her expressive brown eyes disappeared and he suddenly sat up, surprising her as he fisted his hand in the hair on the back of her neck, wrenching her head back and causing her eyes to shoot open again. He held them for a second, watching as he began to lift his hips to match her thrusts. "Yes," she hissed, her forehead tilting down to meet his own, her hands sliding up his neck to grasp either side of his face, her lips crashing down to his hungrily.

Sweat clung to their bodies as their pace grew even faster, each of them driving the other higher and higher until finally, they both plummeted over the edge. Robb swallowed her surprised cry as she fell apart before following her, his eyes clenched shut, a groan in his throat as white spots danced behind his eyelids.

He didn't remember collapsing back against the pillows – both of them must have passed out for a few moments, because when Robb became aware of his surroundings again, Maliya was sprawled across his chest, their legs tangled as the sweat began to dry on their skin. Heart still galloping in his chest, Robb lazily pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I've missed you," he murmured, smiling slightly as he ran his fingers through her hair.

He felt her eyelashes flutter against his chest as her eyes opened, turning her head so she could look up at him. She propped her chin on her hands, her eyes twinkling happily. "And I love you," she whispered almost shyly, completely different to how she first told him just a couple hours ago.

His smile widened, still hardly daring to believe that this was real and this was happening. "I love you too, Maliya, even if you are the most stubborn, infuriating woman that I have ever met," he teased lightly, even though his words were true.

"Then it seems we are a perfect match," Maliya responded, giving him a significant look and making him roll his eyes. She sighed heavily. "So I can assume that you are still mad at me?"

Wanting desperately to avoid another fight, Robb cast his mind around to figure out a way to explain his thoughts without upsetting either one of them. "I'm… frustrated," he corrected, frowning as he thought. "I know that way of life in Dorne is different than here, but women do not typically fight on the battlefield, Maliya. Just the thought of having you out there, in danger, terrifies me."

"Rhaenys and Visenya Targaryen fought alongside their brother Aegon when they conquered Westeros," Maliya countered, looking a little annoyed but struggling to keep her voice even.

Robb quirked an eyebrow. "That was three centuries ago," he reminded her gently. "And they were riding dragons," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Do you have a dragon hidden somewhere that you're not telling me about?"

 _Yes._ "Of course not!" Maliya scoffed quickly. "What about Maege Mormont and her daughter Dacey?" She countered immediately. "They are both very capable fighters and _women_ in case you haven't noticed! Seven hells, Robb, you've made Lady Mormont one of the commanders in your army!"

"That's different," Robb insisted firmly. "All of the women of Bear Island have to learn to protect themselves from the raiding ironborn while their men are away. They are the exception – "

"Well maybe they shouldn't be!" Maliya cried, pushing off his chest and sitting up. Robb was saddened to see that despite his best efforts she had become agitated anyway. He was even more saddened to see her wrap the sheet around herself and hide her body from his view. "Did you know that my uncle Oberyn has taught of each of his eight daughters to fight?" She asked him, getting herself worked up as she kneeled on the bed next to him. "When he went to go claim my cousin Obara, her mother did not want him to take her. She cried and he threw a spear at Obara's feet. He pointed to both of them and asked which weapon she would choose. She picked up the spear, Robb." He just blinked at her, not comprehending the importance of the story and she huffed. "How can I make you understand this?" She muttered, an adorable crease forming between her eyebrows as she thought. "Fighting is to me what being the heir to Winterfell is to you. It's a part of who I am, it's a part of my identity. I am not the type of woman to stay meekly in the tent while you're off fighting the battles. It's like me asking you to allow Bran be to Lord of Winterfell in your place."

Robb nodded slowly. "I think… I think I understand where you're coming from, Maliya."

She sighed again, the fight draining out of her. "But it doesn't change how you feel about it," she concluded, her voice heavy.

"I don't want to fight again," Robb told her, sitting up and reaching for her, his hands sliding down her arms as he coaxed her to lie back down with him. "This night has been too perfect for that."

"I'm going to change your mind about this," Maliya promised, reluctantly allowing him to pull her close again, her head on his chest and one of her legs entwined with his. "One of these days we're going to be fighting the Lannisters side by side."

Robb didn't think that day would ever come, but he wasn't about to tell her that. He decided it was time to change the subject. "Where did you get these?" He asked in concern, turning her arm over to reveal four semi-healed scratches down her forearm. Maliya fell silent, gently running a hand over the scratches. "Maliya?"

"I failed, Robb," she confessed in a whisper, sounding genuinely upset. "I messed up in a very large way and I don't think I will be able to fix it."

Robb's concern was growing at the tone of her voice. "What happened Maliya?"

"I – I promised Rickon that I wouldn't leave Winterfell," she told him in a soft voice. "He overheard me telling Bran and Maester Luwin about my decision to join you before I was able to tell him. He was so mad, Robb. He was yelling, he called me a liar and when I tried to explain myself to him I must have gotten too close because Shaggydog – "

"Shaggy did this to you?" Robb interrupted sharply, alarm running through him as he sat up slightly, shifting her so he could see her face. "I know Rickon and Shaggy had been a little wild when I had left, but I cannot believe he attacked you – "

"He was feeding off of Rickon's anger and fear, Robb," Maliya told him gently. "Shaggy was just warning me away. I don't blame either of them for one second – this was entirely my fault." She shook her head and looked down. Robb could have sworn he glimpsed a sheen of tears in her eyes. "I handled the whole thing poorly and now I'm not sure if Rickon will ever forgive me."

"He will," Robb told her, lifting her chin with two fingers. "Once we rescue my father and my sisters and go back home, he will understand."

A single tear trickled down her cheek as she looked at him and he was surprised by how torn up she was about this. He knew that she had become very close to Rickon since she had arrived at Winterfell, but it seemed as if her heart was breaking. "You didn't see his face."

Robb was at a loss for words. He sat there silently for a moment, unsure what to say to make her feel better other than to wait until they get home so they could talk to Rickon. "I'll write to Maester Luwin and check in on both Rickon and Bran," he reassured her, gathering her in his arms once more. "I'm sorry that this happened, Maliya. I'm sorry that all of this is happening. Believe me, I would very much rather be home at Winterfell with my entire family and focusing on creating our own little family."

Maliya stilled in his arms. "Our own little family?" She repeated. He didn't seem notice that her voice was higher pitched than usual.

"Of course," Robb smiled, rubbing his hand along her bare back, his other hand folded behind his head. "Have you realized that it's been nearly a year since we've been married?" He asked, hardly able to believe it himself. "My mother always tells me how I was conceived on their wedding night, but I suppose it differs for everyone. Maybe it's for the best that you're not with child yet," Robb mused out loud, looking up at the ceiling of the tent. "Because you know what this means, don't you?" He swiftly flipped her over, slipping between her legs and hovering over her. "It just means we'll have to keep trying… every free moment that we get," he murmured, grinning before burying his face in her neck.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

Maliya couldn't help but laugh at his overexaggerated attempts, even though half of her was panicking and ready to flee. She grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him away, her eyes flickering between his, a question on her face. "You… you're ready for children?" She asked hesitantly, silently praying that his answer was no. "Even with everything that's going on?"

"Well sure, I think so," Robb's smile faded slightly at the serious expression on her face, and he took the time to honestly answer her question. "I mean, the thought of being a father is more than a little terrifying – to be in charge for a little life, to take care of them and raise them is a huge responsibility. But I want to create a child with you. A son with your brown eyes or a daughter with your smile. Can't you picture it?"

 _No,_ Maliya wanted to yell. _I'm not ready to become a mother! I'm not ready to put aside my plans – there are still so many things I have finish. Still so many people who have to pay for what they have done to my family._ "I – I don't – " She stammered, not knowing how to respond without lying outright.

Robb seemed not to hear her. He drew back a little, his eyes troubled. "While we're talking about this, there's something I should probably tell you. Now, I don't want you to get mad and you should keep in mind that I did what was needed. There was no other way."

Maliya frowned up at him, pretty sure she wasn't going to like where this was going. "Why would I be mad?" Maliya asked slowly, trying to read his face. "What did you do?"

He sighed heavily, shifting off her. "In order to cross the Trident, Lord Frey has demanded certain… things from us."

"Bennar mentioned that he exacts tolls on those who wish to cross," Maliya muttered, feeling apprehensive. "What did you have to pay?"

"A squire, a few wards at Winterfell, a marriage betrothal for Arya and Rickon and…" he trailed off, watching her reaction as if he was waiting for her to explode. "When our first born son reaches his tenth nameday, he will be sent to be fostered at the Twins."

Maliya's mouth opened and closed several times, flabbergasted as she tried to shift through her initial feelings. Outrage was her first reaction. "You _sold_ our future son?" She accused, her voice quietly furious. There was a delayed second reaction that questioned her anger, the small voice reminding her that she didn't want children right now anyway – it was all very confusing. "To the _Frey's_?"

"It was the only way for the army to cross!" Robb repeated, holding his hands out to the sides. "If we had said no than we would have been too late to save the Riverlands – "

"But that's going to be our son, Robb, our child!" Maliya exclaimed loudly, sitting up as well. _Shut up_ , the small voice shouted. _Why are you getting so upset?_ "I don't want to only have him for ten years and then lose him!"

"Neither do I!" Robb insisted heatedly. "I hate everything about this deal! But I'm responsible for the twenty thousand men in my army as well as all their families back home. I have to think of them before I can think of our hypothetical son."

"Believe me, I know the importance of negotiating alliances and deals," Maliya reminded him. "I was used as a pawn to broker an alliance between Dorne and Winterfell, as were you! But more than that, my brother Quentyn was sent off to be fostered when he was very young. I barely remember him, but I do remember how it tore my mother apart, day after day, year after year until she eventually left my father. I don't want that to happen to us."

"It won't," Robb reassured her, moving closer and grabbing both her hands. "We'll –"

She never heard what he was about to say because he was interrupted by the abrupt appearance of none other than Theon Greyjoy. Maliya yelped and Robb cursed, practically tackling her and yanking the sheet up higher around them to protect their modesty. "What the fuck, Greyjoy?" Robb shouted, attempting to shield her with his body as he turned to glare at his friend. "You can't just enter someone's tent without announcing yourself – "

"There's been a raven from King's Landing," Theon interrupted. Maliya felt her body tense as she took in the uncharacteristically grave expression on Theon's face and Robb must have noticed it too because he sat up. The sheet fell down around his waist as he took the rolled up parchment that Theon walked over and handed to him.

"Robb?" Maliya questioned softly, watching him unroll the letter and read it over and over again, his face going pale. She shifted to her knees next to him, making sure the sheet was completely covering her body. "Is everything alright?"

"It's bad news, isn't it?" Theon guessed, his voice solemn. "We haven't heard from them in a while."

Robb was still alarmingly silent, and Maliya was pretty sure that besides his eyes, he hadn't moved a single muscle since he opened the letter. "What is it, Robb?" Maliya urged gently, heart beginning to beat quicker as she braced herself for what he was going to say. "What do they want?"

Instead of answering them, Robb stood up, uncaring of his nudity as the letter fluttered from his fingers. Maliya watched his stiff, mechanical movements with worried eyes as he went to put on the pants and shirt that she had stripped off him just hours ago. Maliya and Theon shared an alarmed glance as Robb stepped into his boots without lacing them. "Robb, just wait a minute, tell us what's going on," Theon spoke up, trying to put a hand on Robb's shoulder. Robb shrugged him off before walking out of the tent without even bothering to put his cloak on. "What in the seven hells does that letter say?" Theon demanded roughly, trying to cover up his confusion and concern.

Maliya hesitantly reached for the letter, a little scared of what she might read. Refusing to acknowledge the fact that her fingers were trembling, she picked it up and began to read. Her breath grew shallower with every word until she stopped breathing altogether, feeling dizzy as her mind tried to discover all the implications of what she read. She looked up at Theon, her eyes wide.

"Lord Stark is dead," she told him, voice cracking. " _King_ Joffrey had him beheaded as a traitor to the crown."

* * *

 **Doran's POV**

Doran watched his brother restlessly pace the length of the throne room, his continually growing frustration only serving to make him weary. His gout was steadily growing worse, his joints all red and inflamed. He now needed a stick in order to walk, which was why he had ultimately made the decision to move to the Water Gardens, where his enemies couldn't see how weak he was growing. He loved this peaceful and serene palace. There were fountains and pools for the children to play in, blood orange trees that offered a delicious scent and a soft sea breeze that made the thin curtains flutter.

"I don't know how many more times we have to go over this, Doran," Oberyn snarled, the rage leaking into his voice. "You have read this letter just as many times as I have. ' _The wolves have begun to gather, the entire pack marching away from it's home. I pray everyday that the sun will guide them in the right direction and keep them safe.'_ " Oberyn threw the now flat and well read piece of parchment at Doran who caught it, looking down at his daughter's elegant writing. "The Starks are marching to war with the entire North at it's back. That's Maliya's family now – her husband is marching to war and if I know Maliya she's made it so that she's right there next to him. We are the sun, Doran, she's asking us for our help. We cannot turn her away. We cannot _sit_ here and do _nothing_!"

"That is not what I'm suggesting," Doran responded, appearing calm in the face of his brother's anger. "I would never just abandon Maliya when she needed us the most, but I needed some time to think about what our safest move will be. You must understand that every decision I make must be made for the good of Dorne. If we give outward support for the Starks, if we go against the crown and the Lannisters, then we are putting every one of our people in danger. We will be labeled an enemy and a traitor and our allies would be too far away to aid us if need be."

"Then what do you suggest?" Oberyn demanded, finally stopping his pacing and turning to face him with his arms crossed.

A knock sounded on the door. "Enter," Doran called, turning his gaze away from his brother.

Areo Hotah partially opened the door and poked his head through. "Apologies for interrupting, my prince. The princess is here as well as a few of her cousins. They wish to speak with you."

Doran sighed. "Please inform them that I am in the middle of a very important meeting and do not wish to be disturbed – "

"Father, you've been locked in that room with Uncle Oberyn for a fortnight now!" Arianne shouted through the door, trying to peer around Areo's large body. "We know that you've received a letter from Maliya despite the fact that you've been trying to keep it a secret. What is going on?"

"They have a right to know," Oberyn murmured to Doran when he stayed silent. "It's better that they hear it from us than from somebody else."

Reluctantly nodding his head in agreement, Doran waved the girls inside. Arianne entered first, her dress swirling about her ankles, with Obara, Nymeria and Tyene right behind her. Even the way the Sand Snakes dressed showed the unique differences between them. Obara with her warrior style outfit, her whip tied to her belt. Nymeria with her simple dress, which probably concealed about half a dozen knives, and Tyene, the picture of sweetness and innocence in a pale blue gown. All three deadly in their own way, and together a force to be reckoned with.

Arianne glided over to her father, examining his expression for a moment before bending down to kiss his cheek. She took the seat next to him while Nymeria perched on the arm of the chair. Tyene settled on a chair across from them but Obara remained standing, her arms crossed and her expression stony. "What is it, father?" Arianne asked, tucking her hair behind her ear. "What did Maliya say?"

"The Lannisters have imprisoned Eddard Stark for being a traitor and are holding his two daughters captive in King's Landing. In response, Maliya's husband has mobilized the northern armies and are marching south," Doran informed them in a heavy voice.

Their reaction was immediate and explosive. "Is Maliya marching with them?" Arianne questioned, leaning forward.

"What reason did they give for calling Lord Stark a traitor?" Asked Nymeria.

Obara shared her father's quick temper and her mouth was set in a snarl. "Who do these fucking Lannisters think they are?"

"When do we march?" Tyene asked expectantly, her wide eyes looking between her father and her uncle.

Oberyn raised a hand to silence them. "There are things that still need to be considered," Oberyn announced, glancing over at Doran who gave him a small, appreciative nod, glad that he saw his point of view for the moment. "While we can't declare our support for the Starks outright, we also won't leave Maliya without help."

"We have to send men to help them," Obara persisted, her hand straying to the whip on her waist. "We forged an alliance with the Starks when Maliya married the heir to Winterfell and that means both men and resources."

"We can't send them right up the middle of Westeros," Arianne added, turning to her cousins as they began to develop a plan, ignoring the two men in the room, one a seasoned warrior and the other a seasoned ruler. Doran watched them with a small smile on his face, enjoying watching the girls defend their cousin. "Our army would have to pass High Garden, King's Landing, and Riverrun in order to reach the north."

"What if they were disguised?" Tyene suggested, her eyes lighting up. "Nondescript clothing, no banners and no sun and spear."

"Those are all exceptional ideas," Doran complimented, tilting his head toward them. "And all of you are right. After many days and nights of deliberation, I have decided that we will send five thousand men to aid the Starks against the Lannisters. They will travel by sea, sailing around the coast out of sight, undisguised until they meet up with the northern army."

"Five thousand?" Nymeria repeated, sounding disappointed with the number. "Will that be enough?"

"It is all I can spare, I'm afraid," Doran sighed. "It is a very fine line that we are going to walk. All of Westeros knows that Maliya married the Young Wolf. We don't want the crown to think that we are traitors so we can't vocally support the Starks just yet, but we will be secretly aiding them. It is only a matter of time before word about it gets out, but I want to forestall it as long as possible. And when they do find out, I'm going to need as many men here as possible in case we are attacked. I cannot leave Dorne undefended."

"Who will command the army?" Arianne asked her father.

"I will," Oberyn announced before Doran could answer, but he had to admit that he wasn't surprised. Oberyn and Maliya shared a special bond while she grew up here in Dorne. While Doran suspected that most of it had to do with the fact that she was Elia's daughter, it was also the girl herself. Oberyn taught her and doted on her more so than any of his own daughters. He adored Maliya and Doran knew there was no was no way that he would let her fight this war on her own. He immediately felt reassured that Oberyn would be there to protect Maliya, and there was a weight lifted off his shoulders.

"I will go with you, father," Tyene declared immediately, rising gracefully from her seat. Gone was the innocent expression on her face, and in it's place was a dangerous one that reminded him so much of her father. "Maliya is like a sister to me, there is no way that I am allowing those _fucking_ Lannisters to hurt her or her new family."

"We have to protect her," Nymeria agreed, flicking her long braid over her shoulder. "But if we're going to go through with this plan, we can't have too many of us going where we can be easily recognized. I will stay here and help protect our home."

They all looked to Obara, who ended up surprising them the most. "I will stay here as well. I will also continue to train Trystane and the younger Sand Snakes. They have to be prepared for whatever is coming."

"I'm glad you will be staying here, cousins," Arianne said, reaching out to take Obara's hand briefly and smiling at Nymeria. "A part of me wishes that I could fight so that I could come with you all if it meant that I could see Maliya. I've missed her something dreadful – make sure you give her my love."

"We will," Tyene promised.

"Gather your best men and assemble your army, Oberyn," Doran commanded in a deep voice. "You sail north the day after tomorrow."

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

 _Lord Stark is dead. Her husband's father and the father of six other children was dead. The only other person besides her two uncles that knew her secret….dead._ She repeated it over and over in her mind, but that didn't seem to make it sink in any faster. Lord Stark was a good man, an honorable man – what could he possibly have done to be labeled a traitor to the crown?

Now fully dressed, Maliya sat on the edge of the bed, the letter still in her hands. She knew that she should find Robb or Lady Stark, offer them words of consolation that she knew would be meaningless to them. She just couldn't believe that the Lannisters had once again murdered a part of her family. Once again, they had taken away someone that she cared about and hurt the people that she had grown to love. Her hand unconsciously clenched into a fist, crumpling the letter.

She knew that this wasn't the work of Tywin Lannister this time, it was that awful boy-king Joffrey and his mother. The whole family was terrible, and Maliya found herself questioning whether she had misread Lord Tyrion as well. Sighing, with a heavy heart, Maliya stood and put the letter on the table before pulling out the bag she hidden in the tent and taking out the flask with the Moon Tea and taking a long swig from it, grimacing slightly.

"My Lady?" Theon called from outside the tent. She hurriedly put everything away before moving several steps to sit back on the bed.

"It's alright, Theon, you can come in," Maliya called back, lacing her fingers together. "Well? Did you find him?"

Theon nodded, still uncharacteristically silent. Maliya had never seen him without his smirk for so long. "Word has somehow spread throughout the camp already. Robb grabbed his sword and has gone into the forest – people kept going up to him and saying they were sorry for his loss."

Maliya sighed, looking down at her hands. "I suppose I should go find him and tell him…" she trailed off, looking up at Theon with uncertain, lost eyes. "What do I tell him? What could I possibly say to a man who just lost his father, someone he looked up to, loved and admired more than anyone else?"

Theon scoffed, rolling his eyes uncomfortably and laughing off her question. "I don't fucking know, my father is still alive – "

"Come on, Theon, be serious!" Maliya chided, frowning up at him. "I've never lost a parent like Robb has," she partially lied. She had actually lost both her parents, and while it hurt terribly, she hadn't been as close to them as Robb had been to his father. "I don't know what to say either but as his wife I'm supposed to comfort him! I just thought that since you've been his best friend for longer than I've been his wife – " she broke off, shaking her head and sighing. "Nevermind. I don't know what I was thinking." She stood, brushing out the skirts of her dress and moving towards the exit. "I should go find Robb."

"With Robb, actions speak louder than words," Theon blurted as she drew level with him. He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably when she turned to look at him in surprise. "I don't think there is anything that you can say that will make him feel better. My advice would be to just… be there for him, I guess," he shrugged, lifting a shoulder.

Maliya gave him a small smile, reaching out to put a hand on Theon's arm. "I know we haven't always gotten along, Theon, but… thank you," she murmured gratefully, turning to leave again.

"Maliya?" Theon called before she walked out. She paused, looking over her shoulder quizzically. "Did Robb tell you about the deal he had to make at the Twins?" He asked, shifting on his feet awkwardly.

"Yes," she nodded, looking troubled once more. "He told me what he had to pay– "

"You can't let him go through with it," Theon suddenly exclaimed, cutting her off and making her blink in surprise. "You can't give your son to the Freys."

"Theon – "

"You need to be the one to raise him yourself," Theon insisted and Maliya had never heard him sound more passionate about anything. "He will be the heir to Winterfell one day and the Frey's are a lesser house – it's practically an insult! I know my situation is different, but I haven't seen my family in nine years and your son deserves better than that. I just… if you don't want to send your son to the Twins, I just want you to know that I'm on your side."

Maliya could have fallen over in shock. She had to force her jaw from flopping open, reminding herself of Theon's current situation. He was a ward himself. Not voluntarily, true, but at least he had grown up with a family like the Starks. Her future son would not be so fortunate. "I… wow, Theon," she stammered, completely blown away. "Thank you, I really appreciate that. And so does my unborn, hypothetical son."

"Sure," Theon answered gruffly, looking slightly embarrassed as he waved her gratitude away. "You should go find Robb now. He can be pretty impulsive when he's angry and upset."

She sent him a small smile before pushing aside the tent flap. Greywind was pacing around right outside the tent, looking anxious. He could tell that something was wrong and as soon as she stepped outside, she could as well. The camp, which was normally a bustle of activity, cursing and the sound of swords and shields was abnormally silent. Even the horses were quieter than usual.

He padded over to her, pushing his nose against her hand with a soft whine. Maliya pulled her cloak tighter around her and crouched down next to him, scratching behind his ears. "Hi, Grey," she murmured, no longer unnerved by the fact that he could understand every word that she was saying. "You can sense that something's wrong with Robb, can't you boy?" She pressed a kiss on the top of his head. "C'mon, let's go find him."

Grey Wind bounded off immediately through the camp, turning around every once in a while to make sure she was still following. The men were silent as she passed, bowing their heads and murmuring words of condolences. She accepted the words as graciously as she could, slightly surprised that they were extending their respect to include her.

Maliya paused at one point while walking through the camp, her head turning towards the section where they kept all their prisoners. From here she could see the outline of Jaime Lannister who was cuffed and chained to a pole. Hot, swooping anger flushed through her body at the mere sight of him. When would that family stop terrorizing the rest of the Seven Kingdoms? While she knew that he had nothing to do with Lord Stark's death, he was their prime suspect for Bran's fall, he had murdered her grandfather and he was related to Twyin Lannister.

Her mind drifted to the gift that Tyene had given her before she left Dorne. One drop of The Long Farewell on his skin and he would die a slow, painful death. It would all be worth it. She could imagine the looks on Tywin and Cersei Lannisters face when they learned that he was dead. It would be one last Lannister in Westeros – who knows how many lives she would save with this one, small, untraceable act.

She turned with her eyes narrowed, to go back to her tent and get the poison, but before she could, Grey Wind came up behind her and gave her a small nudge. She blinked and jumped, the murderous rage clearing from her mind as she looked down at the direwolf. "Right," Maliya stammered, shaking her head slightly. "Lead on, Grey Wind."

Grey Wind steered her out of the camp and a short distance into the surrounding forest. She heard Robb first and when she stepped between the trees she saw him hacking at a nearby tree with his sword. He was still wearing the clothes he had slipped on before he had walked out of the tent, his boots unlaced and his shirt hanging open. The trees had deep cuts in it, his muscles straining as he used his full strength with each swing.

Tears were streaming down his face, his chest heaving and for a moment Maliya felt like crying herself. Grey Wind whined again. "Robb?" Maliya called hesitantly, walking a few steps closer. He didn't seem to hear her, he was so wrapped up in his attack on the tree. "Robb!" She shouted a bit louder to break through to him.

He abruptly stopped swinging, his eyes finding hers. An expression of utter devastation and loss covered his face, the look in his normally bright blue eyes was dead and empty. In that moment the fight seemed to leave him – his shoulders slumped and the ruined sword slipping from his fingers. He swayed dangerously and Maliya rushed forward, falling on her knees to catch him as he fell to his.

He buried his head in her neck, a shuddering sob echoing in her ear. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, one hand at the back of his neck and the other rubbing soothing circles on his back. She held him as tight as she could, trying to pour all of her love and comfort into her embrace. Grey Wind circled them a couple times, nudging his nose against Robb's tear streaked face. Robb made a noise that sounded like a combination of a gasp and a chuckle and pulled back slightly, petting Grey Wind on the head.

Maliya wiped Robb's tears with her thumbs when he turned back to her, her hands then sliding to either side of his neck. Robb closed his eyes, his own hands coming up to grasp her wrists, looking like he was trying to take comfort from her touch. When he opened his eyes again, the hopelessness in them scared her. "I failed," he whispered, dazed. "I called all of my banners, created an army of twenty thousand men to march to King's Landing and save my father… and I failed." His eyes slowly drifted to hers. "I promised Bran and Rickon that I would bring father home. How can I possibly go back to face them now?" He asked in despair, shaking his head as his eyes filled with tears. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't know if I'm strong enough for this."

"Yes you are," Maliya countered fiercely, making sure she had his complete and undivided attention. "You are strong enough for this Robb," she repeated. "And when you're not, you have me."

Robb swallowed loudly, nodding hesitantly. His gaze drifted to something over her shoulder and suddenly that look of despair was back on his face. "Mother," he murmured, brokenly.

Maliya glanced behind her and saw Lady Stark standing there, a similar look on her face even though her eyes were devoid of tears. She didn't know how long Lady Stark was standing there watching them, but Maliya could have sworn she caught an odd expression on her face. Was that jealousy she saw? But as quick as it came it was gone and Maliya was left wondering if she imagined it.

The moment passed and then Maliya was helping Robb back to his feet as his mother rushed forward to embrace him. Maliya made to step back, not wanting to intrude on this delicate, intimate family moment but Robb suddenly held her hand, stopping her from moving any further away from him. He hugged his mother with one arm and clutched at her with the other, holding so tightly that it hurt. "I'll kill them all," Robb vowed in a choked voice, his voice slightly muffled by his mother's cloak. "Every one of them… I'll kill them all!"

"They have your sisters," Lady Stark reminded him gently, brushing down his curls. "First we have to get the girls back. And then… then we will kill them all," she finished furiously, her eyes opening and landing on Maliya.

"They won't get away with this," Maliya chimed in, her voice dark. "The Lannisters will pay for everything that they've done."

* * *

 **Cersei's POV**

Cersei stared out of her bedchamber window into dark, night sky, leaning against the wall with her robe loosely tied around her body. She took another sip of wine from the cup she was holding, her mind drifting as it always seemed to do lately, to Maliya Martell. The girl was a thorn in her side. Every small council meeting, Cersei was just waiting to hear the news that Rhaenys Targaryen was back from the dead and was claiming the Iron Throne. News of Eddard Stark's death must have reached them by now… what better way to respond than by revealing her true identity?

Cersei didn't understand why the foolish girl was continuing to keep her identity a secret, but frankly she could care less. The less people who knew about the girl's identity, the better for Cersei and her family. Ever since her 'by chance' realization that Maliya Martell might not be who she said she was, Cersei had been doing some subtle inquiring about her and what she found out what troubling.

The girl had been sick for the first two years of her life and hadn't been seen in public, which she thought was oddly convenient. She was the twin of Doran's middle child who was being fostered at the Yronwoods, she was beautiful and loved by her people… Cersei fought the urge to roll her eyes. There was no definitive evidence that the girl was who she said she was, and no evidence that she wasn't. It mattered not. All that mattered was the saftety of her family, and this Maliya girl threatened Joffrey himself. She had to die, there was no other option.

A small, hidden smile crossed her lips. The best part about all of this was that Cersei was going to take care of this little problem on her own. Jaime and their father were off fighting their battles and Cersei neither knew nor cared where the treacherous little Imp was. She would prove to all of them that she was capable of doing more than just giving birth to children.

She had given a lot of thought as to who should help solve her little Targaryen problem. The Faceless Men were the first to pop into her mind – they were professional and they were discreet, but ultimately the price for the job would most likely be exhorbitant. Not only was the girl a princess, but she was holed up in a castle all the way north, surrounded by the remaining Stark army. She didn't need Littlefinger or Varys prying into where all the money was going so she dismissed that idea.

She chose to go with her second plan, which was to pick someone close to the girl, someone who can access her relatively easily. She ran through the Stark bannermen whose castle's were near Winterfell, dismissing the unfailingly loyal ones such as the Karstarks, the Umbers, the Mormonts, the Reeds and the Glovers. Then one name jumped out at her, one that had a long, bitter history with the Starks.

With the right words and the right incentive, Cersei knew that she could sway the man to her side. She had seen first hand how the offer of a woman, of money or of land could make a man do something he never thought he would do. Her smile grew.

Cersei was going to give the man an offer he couldn't refuse. If he helped take care of her Targaryen problem and aided in the downfall of the Starks, she would anoint him as Lord Paramount of the North, something that his family had wanted for a long, long time.

"Come back to bed, love," a voice called from behind her. Irritation crossed Cersei's face as he interrupted her musings. It was the wrong voice, the wrong face, the wrong body. A wave of longing swept through her and she found herself missing Jaime all over again. Sex with Lancel was nowhere near as satisfying as sex with Jaime – he just didn't feel the same inside her. He curbed the urges for now, but Cersei could already feel herself growing annoyed and bored with how infatuated and arrogant Lancel was becoming.

"Leave me," Cersei commanded, turning from the window and gliding over to her table to sit on the chair, taking another sip of wine before taking out a quill and a piece of parchment. "I have work to do."

Lancel looked disappointed and surprised, but slowly put his clothes back on, hesitating in front of the table before he left. "Will I see you later?" He asked, voice rising hopefully.

"Perhaps," Cersei drawled, unconcerned without even looking up at him. She took another sip of wine when she finally heard the door open and close and began to focus on crafting her letter.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

Maliya sat next to her husband, surveying the arguing men around her. Robb had come to find her that night, hours after the sun had set. The expression on his face was grave as he told her that Renly Baratheon was claiming his brother's crown and he was going to call an emergency council to figure out their next move. Benches were set up outside, a fair distance from the camp so that they wouldn't be overhead.

She sat silently, listening intently as the lords argued back and forth. Maliya sat with Robb, Lady Stark and Theon on the northern side with the Greatjon, Galbart Glover, Lady Mormont and Lord Karstark. Her eyes lingering on him for a moment, taking in his hollow eyes and tangled beard, a pang of pity running through her. He had lost two of his sons in their last battle and he wasn't taking the loss well. On the other side of their group were the southern lords, most of whom she didn't recognize.

They had already been at this for well over an hour now, and they didn't seem to be any closer to making a final decision. There was arguing, there was yelling and cursing and there was frustration. The same points were mentioned again and again. Lord Tywin had crossed the Trident and were heading for Harrenhal. And now there were two kings in the realm, Joffrey Baratheon and his uncle Renly.

Some lords wanted to march towards Harrenhal and end Lord Tywin's power once and for all. Others suggested hitting his home of Casterly Rock. Still others suggested pledging their fealty to King Renly, adding their forces to his and then marching on King's Landing.

Maliya glanced at Robb occasionally throughout the proceedings. He hadn't spoken a word since the council started, yet there was a thoughtful look on his face as he respectfully listened to each and every one of his lords. He was holding up as well as could be expected since the news of his father's death. He was slightly more distant than Maliya had ever seen him, but she did not blame him for attempting to keep busy. He was stronger than she was and was handling this better than she ever would have. Her respect for him had grown exponentially over the past few days.

"Renly is not the king," she heard Robb say loudly, speaking up for the first time and jerking her back to the present.

"You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my lord," Galbart Glover protested, looking outraged. "He put your father to the death!"

"That makes him evil," Robb pointed out. "Not a king. Bran cannot be Lord of Winterfell before me, Renly cannot be king before Stannis. He was Robert's _younger_ brother."

The council erupted once more. Lady Mormont agreed that Stannis had the better claim, but Ser Marq Piper argued that Renly was crowned and that if they added their strength to his, they could potentially have six of the seven kingdoms. One of the Freys, of course, suggested they wait and see who comes out on the winning side and everybody positively went mad with disgust and anger.

Lady Stark stood up at one point on the other side of Robb and every person in the council respectfully fell silent. "Why not a peace?" She asked in a calm voice.

There was a long, heavy silence following her words as everyone moved their gaze to Robb to see his reaction. Maliya could tell right away that he did not agree with her decision and he let it be known. "They murdered my lord father, your husband," Robb reminded her, his face grim. He reached for his sword and unsheathed it, holding it in front of him. "This is the only peace I mean to give the Lannisters."

The Greatjon led the cheering, pounding the benches and stamping their feet in approval. Lady Stark waited, her face impassive until the clearing was silent once more. Her voice filled with grief, she went on to say that everyone that they had lost was gone, and no amount of fighting was going to bring them back. "I will mourn for Ned until the end of my days, but I must think of the living. I want my daughters back, and the queen holds them still. If I must trade our four Lannisters for their two Starks, I will call that a bargain and thank the golds. I want you safe, Robb, ruling at Winterfell from your father's seat with your wife by your side. I want you to live your life, to father sons and daughters and I want to write an end to this. I want to go home, my lords, and weep for my husband."

Maliya's first reaction to Lady Stark's passionate speech was disgust and a little bit of panic. _This can't be the end,_ she thought frantically, her eyes flickering around the clearing to gauge everybody's reaction to what Lady Stark was saying. _I am so close to finally moving against the Lannisters, this can't end now. Not when I'm closer than I've ever been before._

Thankfully, it seemed as if all the other lords wanted vengeance as well. Lord Karstark wanted his sons death to mean something, another lord questioned how long the peace would last and the southern lords pointed out that the Mountain had ravaged their homes and slaughtered their people – what would be the point of pulling back now?

There was one thing that most of the lords seemed to agree with. Nobody would ever call a Lannister their king. Maliya had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop the wide smile that threatened to spill across her face.

Lady Stark, defeated, sat back down on the bench looking disappointed and the Greatjon then lurched to his feet. His eyes were alight and a strange sort of electricity was suddenly running through the air, making Maliya's heart pump as the adrenaline spread through her body. "My lords!" He roared, spreading his arms wide and spinning in a slow circle to look at them all. "Here is what I say to these two kings." He spat and a few of them cheered. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of the Wall or the Wolfswood? Even their gods are wrong!" He reached over his shoulder and pulled his giant two handed greatsword free. "Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we married, and all the dragons are dead!"

There was more cheering at this point and Maliya was immensely grateful for the distraction. A strange, sudden impulse to leap to her feet at his words ran through her body. To cry that all of the dragons weren't dead, to reveal her true identity to the people surrounding her. She squashed the impulse almost immediately, but her body gave an almost violent twitch, one that both Robb and Lady Stark must have noticed.

" _There_ sits the only king I mean to bend _my_ knee to," the Greatjon boomed, pointing his sword at Robb, who tensed beside her. "The King in the North!"

Maliya watched with wide eyes as he knelt in front of them, placing his sword at Robb's feet. Robb slowly stood at this point, his shoulder straightening at the weight behind this moment. Maliya was momentarily struck by how much he had changed since the boy that she had married almost a year ago. Lord Karstark jumped to his feet as well. "I'll have peace on those terms," he declared, drawing his own sword and kneeling. "They can keep their red castle and their iron chair. The King in the North!"

"The King of Winter!" Lady Mormont cried, adding her mace to the others.

Theon Greyjoy enthusiastically leapt to his feet. "Am I your brother, now and always?" He asked Robb.

"Now and always," Robb agreed.

Theon knelt beside the Greatjon, his sworpoint in the ground and his head bowed. "My sword is yours in victory and defeat, from this day until my last day."

Feeling as if she should say something, Maliya rose to her feet as well and the crowd quieted. The momentous moment was not lost on her. Three centuries ago, Torrhen Stark knelt to her ancestors instead of fighting a war they would not win. It had been three hundred years since the title of the King of the North had been used, and now, for the first time since, they were declaring their independence once more. "You are my husband and now you are my king," she declared, her voice carrying so everyone could hear. "You have the support of Dorne behind you. Together we will make sure the Lannisters get everything that they deserve." Robb's eyes softened as they met hers and he knew he appreciated her words.

More cheers followed her declaration and the Greatjon called once more, "The King in the North!" The other lords joined in, chanting over and over until her head rang with the words. Maliya, unable to hold back a victorious, gleeful smile, looked around them and noticed there was only one person who wasn't on their feet, cheering with the rest. Lady Stark still sat on the bench, a defeated, sad look on her face as she stared at her first born son.

Robb's fingers brushed against her own, drawing her gaze, even if he wasn't looking at her. Pride ran through her as Robb graciously accepted the massive responsibility that had just been thrust upon him, and it wasn't until two seconds later that she was struck with a sudden realization.

Rhaenys Targaryen was never meant to be a queen, that right to rule would have fallen to her brother Aegon after her father. But somehow, against all odds, Maliya Stark had just become Queen in the North and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

* * *

 **Author's Note: And so season 1 is finished and the plot moves forward! Ned Stark is officially dead and Robb and Maliya have just become King and Queen in the North! Cersei is putting her own plan into action and Dorne is officially sending their support. Oberyn, Tyene and Maliya will be together once more! What did you guys think?**

 **Next chapter starts the beginning of season 2! Don't forget to leave a review before you leave! :)**

Guest 1 – Thanks so much for reviewing, I'm glad you liked the chapter!

Guest 2 – Thanks for your review! Since Robb was already married in my story I knew that Frey had to request something big, something that Robb and Maliya would hate and this is what came to mind! I hope you agreed with Maliya's response – I wanted it to come across as both angry and very confused. That scene with Robb and Maliya's reunion was so easy for me to write – I wish it was always like that! I'm glad you think Maliya being a warrior is legit. I knew that I wanted her to be able to fight from the very beginning and what better way than by being the Red Viper's niece! As for Robb's reaction to her fighting… it's going to be a long battle between. They're both very stubborn and won't be backing down soon. I'm not offended by what you said and I want to thank you for being respectful about it! I have taken it into consideration and hope that shows in this chapter.


	17. Disappointed, Again

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! A sincere thank you to those of you that have put out an alert or reviewed my story! I can't believe over 700 people are following this story! This chapter begins the start of season 2 and I'm excited to hear what you guys think. Special thanks to Dannylionthe1st for beta-ing this chapter!**

 **Please read, enjoy and review!**

* * *

 **Chapter 17:** Disappointed, Again

Maliya gazed up at the sky from where she was leaning against a tree, her eyes on the streak of red that was still visible in the sky. It had hovered above them all day as if watching them and she found herself wondering just how many people could see it around the world. Could her family in Dorne see what she was seeing? Was her aunt and uncle currently watching the same red streak?

The dream or memory of Rhaegar Targaryen surfaced in her mind's eye, his violet gaze proudly staring down at his infant son as he spoke to her. ' _Your brother is a very important baby, Rhaenys, and not just to us. The bleeding star that we saw on the night of his birth signaled his arrival as the prince that was promised.'_ Sadness swept through her as she stared up at the red streak, missing the brother that she would never get to see grow up.

She had heard many different theories around the camp about what this strange phenomenon could mean. Some said that it was Lannister red and was a sign of victories to come. Other said that it was the blood of those that had died in the war already.

But Maliya had her own interpretation. If she squinted just right, she could almost imagine it was a dragon speeding through the sky with a trail of fire behind it.

Shoving away the thoughts of dragons, Maliya's eyes fell to the dirty, smelly man sitting chained in the giant cage that Robb had ordered made for him. Robb and Lady Stark were currently in the main tent with the rest of the bannermen, discussing his peace terms with one of the Lannister prisoner's who was going to bring them to King's Landing. It was the only reason she was currently here right now. If Robb knew where she was, she would be in serious trouble… yet again.

She found herself continually drawn to the Kingslayer ever since he had been captured, and she didn't quite understand why. It didn't have anything to do with his appearance, because not only was he a disgusting mess at the moment, but Maliya apparently preferred men with auburn hair as to golden. Maybe she was drawn to him because Robb had expressly forbid anyone to talk to him. Maybe it was because he had murdered her grandfather or because he was the grandson of the man who had ordered the death of her and her family. She didn't quite comprehend the curiosity that she felt, but she found herself wanting to talk with him in an attempt understand him.

"I can feel your eyes boring into the back of my head," the Kingslayer drawled, his voice slightly hoarse from disuse. "Why don't you come out and face me like a man?"

The corner of her lips twitched; it appeared that even though he was in the worst position possible, he still maintained his dry, sarcastic attitude. Lacing her fingers together in front of her, Maliya slowly walked forward, moving around to the front of the cage. Surprise flickered in the depths of his eyes when he saw her, but before he could speak, the guard standing at the door of the cage caught sight of her and looked both alarmed and uncomfortable.

"I require five minutes alone with the Kingslayer," Maliya told him in a voice brooking no argument, her face expressionless.

He looked from her to the prisoner and back again, shifting on his feet. "I was told not to let anyone near 'im…" He trailed off at the dangerous, slightly predatory glint in her brown eyes, so similar to that of her uncle's.

Her head tilted to the side. "You're going to give me five minutes and I won't tell my husband that you fell asleep during your shift last night."

He paled, bowed his head slightly, and quickly walked away, allowing Maliya to turn her attention to the man sitting chained in front of her. "Well, well, well," Jaime Lannister drawled softly, a smirk on his face. "A visit from the Warrior Princess of Dorne. I feel lucky indeed. Though I suppose I should be calling you a Warrior _Queen_ , now shouldn't I?" He corrected, his eyes flickering to the crown atop her head.

Maliya suppressed the urge to reach up and self consciously touch it. One of the Riverlords had made one for her and Robb soon after he was declared King in the North. It was bronze, and more feminine than Robb's, which was fashioned after the old Kings of Winter with nine iron spikes in the shape of longswords. She still hadn't quite gotten used to the idea that she was now the Queen of the entire North. It wasn't something she really wanted nor expected to ever happen to her.

"I would prefer it if you didn't call me anything at all," Maliya quipped, moving a step further to examine him closer. "Is there anything I can get you, Kingslayer? A proper chamberpot? A bar of soap, perhaps, or maybe a comb?"

His smirk widened at her blasé, disinterested voice. "I'm honored that you would think of me at a time like this, Your Grace. What brings a woman like you to this humble cell of mine? Is your husband not pleasing you properly or are you in desperate need of some actual intelligent conversation?"

Maliya wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I can assure you, Kingslayer, that I am more than satisfied in _all_ aspects of my marriage. Tell me, why would I want to touch someone who fucks his own sister? Or attempts to murder a child by pushing him out of the window?" An involuntary expression of annoyance crossed his face, giving Maliya pause. It was only for a fraction of a second and the only reason she noticed it was because she was watching him so intently. _Was it because she mentioned his sexual relationship with his sister? Or was it because of the name Kingslayer?_

The Kingslayer's lips tightened. "This rumor again? _King_ Robb has already talked to me about this, and I'll ask the same thing to you as I did him – have you any proof?"

Maliya shrugged carelessly. "Your three golden haired children and your terrible family are proof enough for me. You pushed a child out of a window because he caught you fucking your twin and your son just chopped off the head of one of the most loved and powerful men of Westeros. Oh how the mighty Kingslayer has fallen," she sighed dramatically. Something definitely flickered across his face at the name and her eyes narrowed slightly. "What's wrong, Lannister? Do you not like infamous name that all of Westeros knows you by?" She asked quietly, scrutinizing him and realizing that she was right. "Then perhaps you shouldn't have stabbed your King in the back. Why did you do it? Did you want the throne for yourself? Was it your father's orders?" She continued, pressing as the anger continued to build. "What could have possibly possessed you to break your vows and stab the man you were supposed to protect – "

Something dark flashed through the Kingslayers eyes and she belatedly realized that his own irritation was building along with hers. "Since you seem to be able to pass judgement on an event that you weren't even there for, what would you have done if your king was about to burn thousands of men women and children? Tell me, would you have _kept your vows_ while they all died screaming around you?" He snapped, glaring up at her and breathing heavily. A moment letter he abruptly shut his mouth and looked away, clenching his jaw again and again, apparently regretting his outburst.

Maliya blinked, halting her tirade as uncertainty swept through her. This was a piece of information that she had never heard before. She knew Lord Tyrion had called her grandfather the Mad King, but to threaten to burn the entire city to the ground? "What?" She asked quietly, taken aback. Half a second later her eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?" She demanded heatedly. "Explain yourself."

The Kingslayer's expression evened out, and his carefree smile was back. "Explain what, YourGgrace?" He asked, looking deceptively puzzled. "I think the lack of food and water may be messing with my head. I can assure you that I have no idea what I am saying. Or what you were saying. Who are you again?"

Maliya knew that he was just trying to provoke a reaction from her but that didn't stop her from glaring into his smug green eyes, full of frustration. As she did so, a portion of a long forgotten memory resurfaced, one that must have been from when she was only two or three years old.

 _She remembered standing in front of the steps leading up to the Iron Throne, clutching her father's hand anxiously as she stared up at her grandfather and grandmother. Rhaenys liked her. She smiled at her and gave nice hugs. Her grandfather never smiled._

 _She remembered him wrinkling his nose at the sight of her, his mean violet eyes narrowing as he stared down at her. "Did you have to bring the Dornish girl?" He complained loudly, causing her to shrink further behind her father's legs. "I was under the impression that you were presenting my grandson, who I hear is a_ true _Targaryen."_

 _She remembered looking away from her grandfather, scared of the look on his face, and landing on a man standing near the king, dressed all in white, with soft looking yellow hair. Sympathetic green eyes met hers and she had to fight hard to blink away the sudden tears._

Maliya blinked three times as she stared down at a man who looked drastically different than the shining Kingsguard knight he used to be. She knew that he had been part of King Aerys' Kingsguard but it was one thing to know this information and another to remember a small connection that they had when she was Rhaenys. "You," she whispered, shocked and completely thrown off balance.

He gave her a strange look, and opened his mouth to comment but something caught his eye over her shoulder and his expression turned amused instead. "Looks like someone might be in trouble," he sang in a soft voice, barely restraining his smirk.

"My lady." Maliya glanced over her shoulder to see Robb approaching. His face was mostly expressionless as he looked at the Kingslayer, but when his blue eyes met hers, she could see the icy fury in them. "I would like to speak with you, if you have a moment."

"Of course," Maliya agreed, putting an arm through his offered elbow. She didn't spare the Kingslayer another glance as Robb led her away, knowing that would just further increase his anger. Her heart was pounding as she berated herself for getting caught. She knew how overprotective Robb was and she knew that he would be cross with her, but she had been counting on having more time while he was in his meeting.

Robb hadn't spoken a single word the entire walk back to their tent and Maliya was inwardly bracing herself for a lecture. She had enough time to enter the tent and notice Lady Stark sitting by the table with the war map on it before Robb rounded on her, blue eyes flashing. "What in the seven hells were you doing talking to the Kingslayer?" He demanded, obviously struggling to rein in his temper. "The man is our prisoner, Maliya, you shouldn't be sneaking over to start a conversation with him!"

"I'm sorry," she murmured softly, moving to sit in one of the chairs next to Lady Stark. She looked up at her husband, his expression flickering in the candlight as she thought about how best to explain. "I was just curious, I suppose. Growing up with my uncle and my father, I've heard such terrible things about the Lannisters, and they've instilled a sense of automatic hatred of them, for good reason! Lord Tywin ordered the deaths of my aunt Elia and her children and put all the blame on the dogs that he sent to do the dirty work. I just wanted a glimpse behind the madness."

Robb sighed at her explanation, the anger leaving his shoulders. He walked over and knelt beside her, taking her hands that were resting on her lap. "I'm sorry about your aunt, Maliya, and believe me when I say that I hate the Lannisters just as much as you do. They killed part of your family and my father, pushed my brother out of a window and have my sisters as hostages. But Jaime Lannister is dangerous and I don't want you speaking to him alone. Promise me, Maliya."

Knowing that she could hardly refuse, Maliya nodded. "I promise." They all turned to look at the tent entrance as Grey Wind sauntered in, strolling over and collaspsing down next to Maliya with a world weary sigh. She reached down to scratch behind his ears while glancing from Robb to Lady Stark. "How was the meeting?"

"It could have gone better," Robb sighed, crossing his arms and leaning against the table. "Lord Karstark was openly against the peace terms as I'm sure others were as well. And part of me can hardly blame them. How can we talk about peace when the Lannisters are still ravaging the Riverlands and slaughtering it's people?"

"Perhaps because it will save thousands of lives and bring your sisters back to us," Lady Stark commented drily. Maliya glanced over at her and felt a smidge of sympathy run through her. All the poor woman wanted was her family back together again. She had worked incredibly hard to convince Robb just to agree to offer these peace terms.

"I have told you multiple times, mother, I cannot trade Jaime Lannister for the girls. My bannermen will string me up by my feet!" He snapped in frustration, before making a valiant effort to lower his voice. "I will do everything I can for the girls, you know I will. But it's more complicated now, I have to think of all of my men from both the North and the Riverlands."

"So what will be our next move?" Maliya interjected quickly, trying to diffuse an argument that she had already heard many times. Lady Stark looked as if she was ready to press her case once more. "I think we're all aware that the Lannisters are unlikely to agree to those terms."

"We've been successful in driving some of the Lannister armies away from the rest of the Riverlord's lands. Many of my men are urging me to march on Tywin Lannister at Harrenhal, but the fortress is too strong to attack directly. Besides, that would be exactly what Lord Tywin would want." He paused, and Maliya noticed not for the first time just how tired her husband looked. She was proud of him though. His men loved him and respected him because not only was he their king, but he was also a warrior who fought on the front line alongside them. "We're going to move further west. Ser Stafford Lannister is building an army at Oxcross to replace the one that they've lost."

Maliya nodded slowly, thinking out loud. "So if we attack the Lannister's home and get close enough to Casterly Rock then we can draw out Lord Tywin and his army."

"Right," Robb nodded, his brows furrowed as he began to pace back and forth in front of them, thinking out loud. "With the addition of the Riverlands in our army, it makes retreating to the North nigh on impossible at the moment. With that in mind, our last step in this war will be an attack on King's Landing and the Lannisters. I've thought of two additional plans to help us succeed in capturing the city. First, Theon will be returning to Pyke to secure the use of Lord Greyjoy's ships and his men. We will attack by land and they will attack by sea – "

"Robb, you can't be serious! Lord Greyjoy is not trustworthy, you don't want him as an ally!" Lady Stark interrupted heatedly, looking shocked that Robb would even consider such a plan. "Your father had to go to war to end his rebellion!"

"They say he has two hundred ships," Robb countered, refusing to back down as he shot her a quick look. "It will be an uneasy alliance, to be sure, but our main goal is to capture King's Landing and overthrow the Lannisters. If Lord Greyjoy assists in this task, then he will be named King of the Iron Islands."

Lady Stark was still shaking her head. "Don't send Theon," she advised. "Send Jason Mallister or Tytos Blackwood, just keep Theon close to you."

"Who better to treat with Balon Greyjoy than his last surviving son?" Robb asked, trying to hide his frustration with the fact that his mother was questioning his decisions. "Theon has fought bravely for us, mother, I trust him."

"I don't," Lady Stark said bluntly, her blue Tully eyes serious as she tried to reach through to Robb. "I would sooner keep him as a hostage just to be safe."

Maliya half listened to the argument, a very vivid picture of her and Robb leading their army in an attack on King's Landing, their men breaking through their doors as they stormed the city to kill the Lannisters. On the other side of the city, Theon was leading two hundred ships in an attack on the other side, completely overwhelming the enemy. She wanted so badly for that picture to become reality that she just might do anything to make it happen. "Theon has been a Stark for the last nine years," Maliya spoke up, joining in the argument on Robb's side. "Both you and Lord Stark have helped raised him to be an honorable man, and he grew up to be like a brother to Robb. If Robb trusts him to acquire ships for our cause, then I trust him as well."

She caught Robb's grateful eye and gave him a small smile. "That brings me to my next plan," Robb continued once his mother had fallen silent, outnumbered. "If the Lannisters don't accept our peace terms, then we're going to need to side with a suitable person to sit on the Iron Throne, one who will recognize the North as an independent kingdom. Mother, I need you to ride south to the Stormlands to negotiate with Renly Baratheon."

Lady Stark's eyes widened. "Me?" She asked in disbelief. "Why on earth – "

"You know him and you know his family," Robb explained patiently, ceasing his pacing. "I trust no one more than I trust you." The was a moment of silence in the tent, and Maliya could see that despite herself, Lady Stark's expression softened. "Renly Baratheon has an army of 100,000 men. If we form an alliance with him, we'll outnumber the Lannisters two to one. When they feel the jaws beginning to shut, we'll sue for peace, get the girls back and go home, for good."

Maliya could practically feel the hope radiating from Lady Stark as she listened to her son's words. She stood, eyes shining. "You've done so well," she murmured with a small smile, and all of the sudden, Maliya felt as if she were intruding on a private moment. "Your father would be proud."

Robb swallowed harshly, walking over to his mother and pressing a grateful kiss to her forehead before pulling her into a hug. "We'll all be together again soon," Maliya heard him promise softly.

Taking a deep breath and putting a smile on her face, Lady Stark cleared her throat as she pulled back. "I'm going to prepare my things. I'll ride out at first light."

Robb waited until she left before collapsing down on the chair she had abandoned with a weary sigh. Feeling sympathetic, Maliya walked up behind him, unclasping his cloak and pulling it away before beginning to knead his shoulders. He let out a low groan, his head dropping back slightly as she worked the tension out of his muscles. "Who knew being a king would be so stressful and so difficult," Maliya murmured teasingly, smiling as he gave a low chuckle.

"Well I know one thing for sure. I couldn't possibly be a king without my queen by my side," he responded, reaching up for her right hand and pressing a kiss to the middle of her palm. She shivered slightly, constantly surprised how such a simple action could cause so much heat to run through her body. "I feel like I can only truly be myself when I'm with you. To everyone else I'm the King in the North. Even with my mother it's a difficult line between being her king and being her son." He tugged her over to him, guiding her so she sat across his lap, her arms looped around her neck and his around her waist. "Thank you," he told her sincerely, blue eyes flickering between each of her own. "Thank you for being so understanding about how this changes us."

Maliya shrugged his thanks away. "Your mother was right, Robb, you've done really well and we're both really proud of you. You're doing what you think is best for your army and I think you've done the right thing by sending her to negotiate with Renly Baratheon."

"I'm glad you think so. I know you're not going to be pleased with me but I've decided that you're going to accompany her," he declared in a soft voice, his face set as he inwardly steeled himself for her reaction.

Maliya froze, certain that she had heard him incorrectly. Her eyebrows furrowed as she gave a short laugh, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I could have sworn I just heard you say – "

"You did."

Maliya could have screamed. Instead, she attempted to swallow her rage and speak in a rational voice even though her entire body was stiff and her voice sounded slightly strangled. "I have done everything you've asked of me – almost everything you've asked of me," she amended, thinking of the earlier incident with the Kingslayer. "Ever since the Battle in the Whispering Wood, I haven't asked to join you in any of the recent battles. I've stayed in the tent like an obedient wife, telling myself that this was the compromise, that this was something I could do to make your life a little easier. But it's not a compromise, Robb, I gave in because I love you. And now, after all this, you're still going to send me away? Why? To continue to keep me away from the fighting?"

"Yes," Robb answered, simply and honestly. She had to give him some credit – he never dropped his gaze even in the face of her terrible anger.

"Fine," Maliya snapped, pushing his hands away and standing. "One of these days, you're going to realize that your constant need to protect me and keep me safe is not helping our relationship. All it's doing is creating a resentment towards you." She shook her head slowly, some of the anger draining out of her and a quiet disappointment taking it's place. "When are you going to start viewing me as your equal instead of as your wife?"

She glanced away, missing the flash of hurt in his eyes as she moved towards the bed, turning her back to him as she stripped out of her dress and pulled her night dress on. She heard Robb approaching her from behind, but didn't turn around to face him. He hesitantly slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer when she didn't push him away. "I'm not going to apologize for wanting to protect you and keep you safe," he began softly, thumbs tracing a pattern soothingly when he felt her stiffen. "You're my wife – "

Maliya stepped forward, pulling away from him before turning around. "I'm tired of having this same old argument, Robb," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You say that I'm your wife and I say that I've grown up fighting and it's a part of who I am. No matter how many times you say otherwise, I'm _not_ your partner. Not in this marriage and not as your queen."

"Maliya – " he tried, but she cut him off.

"I'll go with your lady mother because you're my king and I don't want a cage next to the Kingslayers. But I want you to know that I'm doing this against my will." She looked up at him, lost. "When I get back, I would like to fight alongside you, instead of against you. If I cannot, maybe I should just return to Winterfell. That's probably what you want, isn't it? Me safely locked away in the North?"

"Yes – no!" He gave a frustrated growl, throwing up his hands. "I don't know! I can't get past the thought that war is no place for a woman – and I know you're not an ordinary woman!" He added quickly when she opened her mouth to argue. "What if you fight beside me and I can't look out for you? What if you're fighting someone better than you or you become outnumbered? What if you die?"

"What if I trip on a root and smash my head into a rock?" Maliya countered immediately, crossing her arms. "What if I choke on a piece of fruit or get trampled by a horse? I don't know if you're right or if I'm right, but frankly I don't care. Our lives can end at any moment and I would rather die beside you, fighting."

There was a long moment of silence where they stood there, staring at each other as they digested everything the other had been saying. Robb was the first to break the silence. "You leave at first light," he murmured, watching her uncertainly. "Can we put aside our differences for the moment so we avoid going to bed angry? That was one of the few pieces of marriage advice that my father gave me while I was growing up."

"What other advice did he give you?" Maliya asked, tilting her head to the side, looking genuinely curious.

Robb felt a strange mixture of sadness and regret as he thought back to those moments with his father. If he had known how little time he had left, there would have been so much more he would have wanted to say or ask. "His first piece of advice was to share everything with each other, because a marriage cannot survive without communication. And then when you have children and your life feels as if it is consumed by them, always make time to spend together, just the two of you. His last piece of advice, and he always said this was the most important one, was to make love to your wife whenever possible, as often as possible."

Maliya heart had given a painful lurch as she was reminded yet again of all the truths that she was keeping from her husband. If what Ned Stark said was true, was her marriage doomed to fail? When she heard his last piece of advice, however, she rolled her eyes, unable to stop the amused smile from crossing her face. "Your father did not say that to you."

"Maybe not," he agreed, looking encouraged by the sight of her smile. "But I believe it's sound advice. In fact, if anyone asks for my opinion, that's the first thing I'll tell them."

"You are such a typical man," Maliya snorted, shaking her head. "Thinking with your cock instead of your head."

"I have to disagree with you on that," he grinned, blue eyes twinkling as he took a step toward her, grabbing her hands and pulling her closer to him. "Both my cock and my head happen to agree wholeheartedly on this point."

She couldn't help but laugh, wondering how he had pulled her out of her bad mood so quickly. She didn't forget her anger towards him by any means, but yelling and arguing had proved useless in the past. She looked up at him as he ran the back of his fingers down her cheek. "You're lucky I love you," she teased.

His eyes shone with warmth and affection. "I'm the luckiest man in the world," he whispered, before bending down and pressing his lips against hers.

* * *

The next morning, Maliya found herself standing with her hands on her hips, staring down at her bag on the bed. She had shoved the egg and Moon Tea ingredients into the bag with her two spare dresses and under clothes. It was risky to take them with her, but she felt it was an even bigger risk to leave it here where Robb or someone else could find them.

"Your Grace?" A voice sounded just outside the tent, causing Maliya to frown for different reasons. Even with all the time that has passed since his men had crowned Robb King in the North, Maliya was still unused to being called 'Your Grace' or being referred to as a queen. For another, the voice that had spoken was distinctly female and as far as Maliya knew, the only other woman she had met was Lady Stark.

"You may come in," Maliya called, hiding her surprise when a pretty young woman entered, carrying a small bag. Her eyes flickered over to Maliya for a moment before training on the floor as she curtsied. "And you are?"

"My name is Talisa, Your Grace," the woman told her with a polite smile. "King Robb sent for a healer to check your wound before your journey."

"His over-protectiveness knows no bounds," Maliya muttered with a sigh. "Well, alright, let's get this over with. The Seven knows he'll check later to make sure it was done. If you'll give me a moment, I'll call you back in when I'm situated."

Talisa bowed her head and stepped back outside while Maliya shrugged out of one sleeve of her riding dress, making sure she was appropriately covered as she sat at the table and called her back in. Talisa took the chair next to her and began to unwrap the bandages around her left bicep. She gently turned Maliya's arm to see the entire wound. "This has healed nicely. No swelling or signs of pus around the stitches," Talisa informed her, glancing up to meet her gaze. "Have you had any abnormal pain or signs of fever?" Maliya shook her head. "Good. Then I'm going to go ahead and remove these stitches." Talisa reached into her bag and began to clean the stitches and her supplies before she began to remove them. She was silent for a while as she worked. "The men in this camp gossip more than any woman I've ever met. Is it true that you got this wound because you disguised yourself as a man so you could fight in your husband's army?"

Maliya slowly quirked an eyebrow at her. "Well, that was very bold of you," she proclaimed in a dry voice.

Talisa lowered her gaze to her work again, though Maliya noticed she didn't flush or look embarrassed. "My apologies, Your Grace, that was – "

"Yes, it's true," Maliya interrupted, surveying her with interest now. "Where are you from, Lady Talisa? I can't quite place your accent."

"Volantis," Talisa answered, pausing to look over at Maliya quizzically. "I thought women weren't allowed to fight in Westeros. I'm still learning the customs here, but it is uncommon, is it not?"

"I was raised in Dorne, the customs there are different. It's not common anywhere north of Dorne, hence why I had to disguise myself," she responded distractedly. "Do highborn ladies from Volantis typically leave home, become healers and follow the army from battle to battle?"

"Highborn?" Talisa repeated, frowning. "I'm afraid I'm not – "

"It's alright, Lady Talisa, you don't have to pretend around me," Maliya assured her with a smile, patting her hand. "But I've been through enough years of rigorous training in how to be a proper lady to recognize the signs. Your posture is impeccable, you speak more clearly and efficiently than three quarters of the people here and you are more bold and outspoken then you have any right to be when speaking to a queen."

"And here I was thinking that I was a good liar," Lady Talisa grimaced, looking down again as she finished removing the last of the stitches. "I'm sorry if I've overstepped my bounds and offended you, I truly meant no harm."

"It's… oddly refreshing," Maliya told her honestly, waving her apologies away.

Maliya got the hint that the other woman didn't want to talk about herself any further when she changed the subject. "Well, my job here is done. Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Grace?"

Maliya shook her head as Lady Talisa packed her bags and stood. "I appreciate your assistance, my lady. Be careful out there. An army isn't the safest place for a woman all alone."

Lady Talisa inclined her head in acknowledgement before leaving the tent. Maliya absentmindedly fixed her dress, wondering if she should have Bennar or Colrin attempt to keep an eye on Lady Talisa just in case. Not all men were as honorable as the Stark men, she knew. She also knew that many men were missing their wives or the comforts of women. Most men were idiots to begin with, but lonely, horny men could turn into dangerous idiots for the few women that were in this camp.

Maliya grabbed the bag from her bed along with her sword and left the tent, heading to where the horses were kept. One of Robb's men came up to her immediately to take her bag and tie it to Shadow's saddle. Maliya looked around and locked eyes with Lady Stark who gave her a sympathetic smile from where she was seated atop her own horse. Robb turned to see who had caught his mother's attention and his face softened when he saw her. Theon, standing a few feet away from them with his own bags, surreptitiously winked at her.

Maliya's gaze turned defiant when Robb's blue eyes dropped to the sheathed sword in her hand and he frowned. "You may try to keep me from the fighting, Robb, but I'm not going to walk into a potential enemy's camp without any protection."

Robb held his hands up defensively. "I wasn't going to say anything!"

"Liar," Maliya chided halfheartedly, not wanting to start yet another argument.

He walked closer to her, putting his hands on her waist. "All I was going to do, my dear wife, is wish you a safe journey. Help my mother out as best you can and give my regards to Lord – King Renly," he amended reluctantly.

Maliya wanted to point out that if he wasn't sending her away then they wouldn't have to say goodbye at all. She didn't want her resentment and bitterness to ruin their farewell, though. Because if she was being honest with herself, there was a strong under current of fear beneath all her other emotions. She was about to leave for she didn't know how long and she was afraid that something might happen to Robb while she was gone. "Promise me you'll be careful," Maliya whispered heatedly, dropping her voice so the others wouldn't hear her. "Don't do anything rash or stupid."

Robb couldn't help but smile. "I promise," he told her, before bending down and pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was far too brief for her liking, but both of them were conscious of their audience and the unresolved issues between them. "I love you," he murmured in her ear. "Even if you are still furious with me."

"I wouldn't be furious with you if you actually believed that we were equals in every way," Maliya reminded him without thinking. She sighed in the next moment, shaking her head. "…I love you too, you big stubborn idiot."

He reluctantly let her go as she pulled back and stepped around him, walking up to Theon. "Safe travels, Theon. I look forward to seeing the infamous iron fleet that you've boasted about so much. Especially when they're sailing to help us destroy the Lannisters."

He had his self-assured smirk on his face. "It will be a sight that you can tell your children and grandchildren about."

Something cold and wet touched her hand, making her jumping slightly. She looked down to see that Grey Wind had padded over to her side, gazing up at her with what she imagined to be sad eyes. "Keep looking after him, Grey," she whispered, scratching behind his ears after crouching down to his level. "Never leave his side." There was a level of understanding in his yellow eyes that showed an intelligence unlike any normal animal, and it comforted Maliya more than anything else would have. Grey Wind was the deadliest weapon to keep by her husband's side, more so than any of his other guards combined.

Maliya stood once more, moving to Shadow's side so she could tie her sword onto the saddle so it would be in easy reach if need be. Grabbing the reins from the man who had helped her with her bags, Maliya swung herself up onto the saddle and nodded at Lady Stark, who wheeled her horse around and followed their guards out of the camp. Maliya, after sharing one last lingering look with Robb, turned Shadow around and pressed her heels into his side.

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

Robb watched his mother and wife ride off into the sunrise with a troubled expression. Maliya was acting polite and cordial with him, but he could see the frustration and and resentment brewing behind her brown eyes. He had expected her to rage and shout at him like she usually did when she thought he was being an overprotective ass. What happened instead, however, was somehow worse. She was _disappointed_ in him, and he knew exactly why.

"Is something wrong, Your Grace?" Theon asked from beside him. He had been watching Robb's expression change instead of watching the women leave.

Robb sighed, wiping his hand across his face wearily. "My wife is unhappy with me, once again," Robb told him, glancing at him. "And you don't have to call me 'Your Grace' when we're alone."

"It's not so bad once you get used to it," Theon shrugged. "What have you done this time?"

"It's the same old argument that we've been having for months. She wants to ride beside me into every battle and I just want to keep her safe and away from the fighting. I just want her to live and yet she's so intent on throwing herself into danger," Robb vented with frustration. "Why couldn't I have a normal, obedient wife who likes planning dances and making dresses?"

Theon grinned at him. "Because you would be so bored that you would probably rather pluck out your own eyeballs. Think of it this way. You would rather be married to someone who challenges you like Maliya rather than someone like, say, Sansa." Robb made a disgusted face and Theon laughed. "I said someone _like_ Sansa! She likes making dresses and dances and she dreams of her handsome knight that would marry her. You love your sister but you would hate that in your wife."

"Yeah," Robb admitted grudgingly, sighing again. "Yeah, I probably would."

"Personally I don't know why you're so against this," Theon continued. "Maliya is a damn good fighter, Robb. She helped save our asses against the wildlings when we were coming back from the Umber wedding. You've seen her train and you saw how she held her own against the Kingslayer! I mean, truthfully, she was barely holding her own and I don't know if she would have lasted much longer, but he is one of the best fighters in Westeros and not many men could have lasted as long as she did."

"What's your point?" Robb ground out, annoyed that Theon wasn't taking his side.

Theon, ever so blunt, turned to face him head on. "My point, Your Grace, is that your fear of losing her is pushing her away anyway."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Robb inquired. "Women in the North don't – "

"Is that what this is about?" Theon interrupted incredulously. "This is all because of what the men are saying?"

"How can I control an army when I can't even control my wife?" Robb questioned in a soft voice. "She disobeyed a direct order and my men all know it."

"So then let her fight," Theon answered, shrugging at the alarmed look on Robb's face. "It will be your decision this time around, you can place her in the back of the army if you wish and surround her with guards if you have to. You can keep her as safe as possible during a battle and she gets her wish to fight."

Robb considered what he was saying and knew it wasn't a terrible idea. "It could work. Thanks, Theon." He clapped a hand on his friends shoulder gratefully. "I have to admit, I just might miss having you around."

"Of course you will," Theon smirked.

"I'm being serious, you ass," Robb chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You've been like an older brother to me for years now, Theon, and I don't trust anyone more than you to convince your father to help us in our fight against the Lannisters."

Theon's smirk faded as he nodded, his face determined and serious. "I won't let you down, Robb. I have my horse saddled and ready to go and I'll write you when I have succeeded and we're leading the iron fleet to destroy the Lannisters."

* * *

 **Author's Note: This chapter was a pain in the ass to write and I hope I've done it justice. What did you guys think of the scenes with Jaime and Talisa? Those were the trickiest for me to write. A little bit of a filler but definitely necessary to set up where everyone's going from here.**

 **So I think I might require help from you guys for the next few chapters. As I've said before I'm not the best with politics and I do as much research as I can, but it can still be pretty confusing! Any descriptions of the war would be helpful at this point. Also, what are your takes on Littlefinger, Margaery Tyrell and Melisandre? Maliya will be meeting them all shortly and they're all a bit mysterious! As always, if there's something you want to see or if you have any ideas to help me out I always appreciate it!**

 **Don't forget to review! :)**

Boramir - thank you for reviewing! Your idea is definitely an interesting one and I think I will be able to incorporate part of it in future chapters so thanks for that! I love when you guys suggest something that I can use!

Guest 1 - I'm glad you can understand Maliya's hesitation to reveal who she is. She's being ruled by her fear but we'll learn more about this in the upcoming chapters! Thanks for reviewing!

Guest 2 - Thanks for your review! So much drama and they haven't even started their family yet! I'm so glad you're loving the story so far!


	18. Seeds of Doubt

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, read and alerted my story! I'm going through a bit of a writer's block (UGH) and this chapter resisted me every step of the way, with every scene, conversation and description. I tried waiting a few weeks to see if any new ideas came to me, but they didn't. I hope that you guys understand. If you have any advice or suggestions on how to get through this, feel free to share them with me! Hopefully I'm just being too hard on myself.**

* * *

 **Chapter 18:** Seeds of Doubt

 _Today is my one year wedding anniversary,_ was Maliya's first thought when she rolled over after yet another night of fitful sleep. As soon as the thought registered in her mind, a somber, solemn blanket enveloped her, one that she could not seem to shake.

She should not be here, so many leagues away from her husband, about to negotiate with a potential enemy during the middle of a war. They should be home at Winterfell with not a care in the world. She could almost picture that simple, care-free life. They would be tangled in the bedsheets, having a picnic in the glass gardens or enjoying the peace of the godswood. Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon would all be there of course, growing up under the loving, watchful eyes of Lord and Lady Stark. No family was perfect, of course, but this vision in her head was as near perfect as she was like to get.

Except that if things were as they should be, she would have been a Targaryen Princess and it was entirely possible that she would never have even met Robb. Nothing was more confusing than the realization that she could not have had it both ways, that she now didn't know if she would pick her true family or her new one.

 _A year_ , she thought again, a picture of her husband's handsome face appearing in her mind's eye. Despite everything that her and Robb had been through and against all odds, they had made it a year. When she thought about the person that she had been a year ago, she couldn't even recognize herself.

Her hatred for the Lannisters and the Starks had burned bright along with the resentment towards her father, her new husband and her strong desire to return home. And now… now she loved that husband and his family more than she would have thought possible. Even though her hatred for the Lannisters was stronger than ever, she was fighting alongside the Starks and his men. _So much can change in a year,_ she thought as she wearily climbed out of bed. _If we survive this war, where will we be next year?_

She missed Robb, she was mad at Robb, she loved Robb and resented Robb. She had hoped that some distance between them would help things, but truthfully it only served to confuse her all the more.

Maliya chose a dark gray, long sleeve dress for this morning, pairing it with her bronze crown. They were drawing close to Bitterbridge, where it was rumored that King Renly and his army were camped. She wanted them to respect her as both a Stark and the Queen in the North. She knew she would have to leave her sword with Shadow, but she had both of Nymeria's gifts, one strapped to her thigh and the other hidden in her boot.

Maliya exited her tent and made her way to over to the small campfire. Ser Wendel Manderly, a man both tall and large with a giant mustache, was sitting and stringing his bow while another man who she believed was called Shadd was stirring something in a pot. Both men stood as she approached and bowed. "I've made some porridge, if it please you, Your Grace," Shadd murmured, holding out a bowl.

"You are most kind," Maliya answered, accepting the bowl with a smile before heading over to where Lady Stark was seated with her own bowl of porridge. "Good morning, my lady," she greeted, sitting next to her good mother. "How did you sleep?"

"Well enough," Lady Stark answered, though Maliya suspected that wasn't entirely true. Lady Stark looked more weary than Maliya had ever seen her. Although she held herself as a lady should, her face was pale and she was more withdrawn than usual, understandably so. She had just lost her husband and her family was split across Westeros. "Ser Wendel has informed me that we should reach the upper Mander today. King Renly won't be too far beyond that."

Maliya nodded in response before focusing on breaking her fast, conscious of the ears always listening to their conversation. Robb had sent twenty of his best men to accompany them, all good, loyal men, but they were always close by.

A silence fell over the both of them, leaving Maliya to wonder if it was only awkward for her. The Lady of Winterfell seemed preoccupied by her thoughts and Maliya was at a loss for words. Truthfully, she had never really felt comfortable around her good mother, not like she had been with Lord Stark. Maybe it was because of the silent judgement Maliya had felt from her when they had first met, or maybe it was because of their disagreement over Jon. Either way, Maliya was never entirely at ease.

She waited until Ser Wendel and Shadd joined the others in deconstructing their camp before speaking again. "What is Renly Baratheon like?" She asked in a curious voice, wanting to know what they were walking in to.

"As I told Robb, it has been many years since I've seen him." Lady Stark stared down at her now empty bowl as if she was confused how it came to be that way. "But as a boy, he was always laughing and running through the halls. Even at that age he was more charismatic than either of his brothers."

"Do you think that he will agree to Robb's terms?" Maliya pressed, her porridge forgotten. "Robb is using him for his army and will ally with him if he acknowledges the North as an independent state. Even so, Stannis is the rightful king and Robb knows it."

Lady Stark sighed. "I cannot say what Renly will or won't do, but we must do our best to negotiate an alliance with him. Come," she said, putting her bowl aside and standing. "It is time we were away."

Their belongings were packed and their horses resaddled within the hour and it only took half a day before their scouts rode back informing them that a group of men were approaching. The men were mounted and clad in their mail. The knight closest to them, the one with a bluejay on his surcoat, nudged his horse forward. "Greetings, my lady." His eyes flickered to Maliya's crown and he frowned before grudgingly adding, "…Your Grace. I am Ser Colen of Greenpools. These are dangerous lands that you cross." Unfortuantely, he spoke the truth. Though they had attempted to stay far away from towns, they still came across bands of armed men. Maliya had tensed each time, her hand drifting toward her sword but the men never attacked them.

"We have important business to discuss," Lady Stark answered, her shoulders straightened and her voice clear and strong. "We come as an envoy to Robb Stark, the King in the North, to treat with Renly Baratheon, the King in the South."

Ser Colen didn't even bat an eye. "King Renly is the crowned King of _all_ the Seven Kingdoms," he pointed out, much to Maliya's displeasure. It didn't seem to be a good sign for this so called alliance. It was apparent that the man had only called her 'Your Grace' as a sign of resigned respect, not because he believed her to be a queen. "But I would be honored to escort you both to meet with the King." Before Maliya or Lady Stark could answer, Ser Colen gestured to his men and formed two flanks on either side of their group. Lady Stark shot Maliya a quick look as she opened her mouth to speak, and subtly shook her head.

So Maliya swallowed her words for the time being and stayed silent as they began their march towards Renly Baratheon's camp. It took them nearly another hour to reach it, but once it came into view, the sheer enormity of it was overwhelming. The sounds reached her first, the normal sounds of an army's camp, just magnified tenfold. She heard men shouting, steel crashing, horses neighing. Her eyes flickered around to see siege engines lined up, tebuchets and rolling rams on wheels. Thousands of men milled about between thousands of tents and thousands of campfires.

Banners fluttered high in the wind. The golden rose of Highgarden, a fox and flowers, a striding huntsman, oak leaves, cranes, a cloud of black and orange butterflies, nightingales, sea turtles, and dozens more. She wasn't quite sure how many men had answered Stannis Baratheon's call, but it seemed that most of the South had flocked to Renly.

Ser Wendel rode up next to them, a frown visible on his large face. "Do you hear that?" He asked in a hushed voice.

Maliya tilted her head to the side, listening until she heard a dull roar above the sounds of the rest of the camp. "Is that…..?" She trailed off, certain that something was wrong with her ears, because there was no way that she was hearing this correctly.

"Cheering," Lady Stark confirmed in a grim voice. Sure enough, when they reached the top of the hill, they could see what appeared to be a melee in progress below the small castle. Hundreds of men were gathered in a circle, shouting, cursing and drinking ale. Two armored soldiers were fighting in the middle of the circle, of which the ground was torn and littered with bits of armor and lances. Ser Colen mentioned something about going to introduce them to the King and pushed his way through the crowd. Maliya's wide, disbelieving eyes, drifted to the opposite end of the circle where two figures were seated upon a raised, makeshift throne.

It was a shock to Maliya's system when she laid her eyes upon Renly Baratheon. He was a younger version of his brother Robert, a vision of what he must have looked like before he grew fat. Strong and fit with an easy smile, Renly Baratheon cut a handsome, confident figure with that golden crown of antlers and roses upon his head. Next to him must be Margaery Tyrell, his new wife. She was a beautiful, delicate looking young woman, with large, brown doe eyes and soft brown hair. "Loras!" She shouted, cheering the Young Knight of Flowers on. "Highgarden!"

Maliya leaned closer to Lady Stark, speaking loud enough in her good mother's ear so that she would be heard. "Please tell me that this is some sort of deranged dream," Maliya shouted, her brown eyes dark and stormy. "Please tell me that an army of one hundred thousand men isn't really camped here, drinking and participating in tournaments and mock fights."

"Would that I could." Maliya couldn't hear the words muttered under Lady Stark's breath, but she could read her lips and interpret the grim expression on her face well enough. Most of her attention was focused on the two men fighting in the center, both clad head to toe in armor. One apparently was Loras Tyrell, whose skill with a blade was well known throughout Westeros. She wasn't sure who the other fighter was, but at the moment she found she didn't care. Her eyes were on the fight, but her mind was trying to grapple with her sudden rage and frustration.

These men were laughing, drinking and shouting while the men in her husband's army were fighting for their lives, surrounded by death, losing limbs and losing their lives. What game did this pretend King think he was playing? Why was he allowed to wait off to the side while the Stark army did all the work and killed all the Lannister soldiers?

Muttering spread through the crowd and Maliya refocused, realizing that the shouting had diminished and the fight had ended. The winner, Maliya realized with shock, was what looked to be a woman, the tallest woman that Maliya had ever seen. Her shoulders were broad, and short, straw colored hair clung to her head once she knelt and her helm was removed.

Maliya tilted her head to the side as she examined the woman who she gathered was Brienne of Tarth, or as the men in the crowd mockingly called her, 'Brienne the Beauty.' She watched, detached, as King Renly admitted her into his Rainbow Guard at her request, though she felt slightly indignant at the obvious disdain everyone seemed to have for her. She wasn't a good-looking woman by any means; her nose looked like it had been broken more than once, her mouth was wide and flat and when she beamed at her King, she saw that her teeth were crooked. Yet she was a woman and a good fighter so Maliya couldn't help but understand what she has had to deal with.

Ser Colen swung down off his horse once Brienne of Tarth was adorned with a Rainbow Cloak. "Your Grace!" He called, bending down to one knee. "I have the honor to bring you Lady Catelyn Stark, an envoy sent by her son Robb, Lord of Winterfell and his wife – "

"Lord of Winterfell, and King in the North," Lady Stark interrupted pointedly, dismounting off her horse and moving to stand beside Ser Colen. "I have the pleasure to introduce you to my good daughter, Maliya of House Martell and Queen in the North." Lady Stark looked back at her and Maliya took this as her cue. She handed Shadow's reins to Ser Wendel and slid from her saddle, picking up her skirts to avoid the mud as she made her way across the circle.

"Well met, Queen Maliya," King Renly greeted, watching her carefully through impassive eyes, which she noticed were a deeper blue than Robb's. "Lady Catelyn, I am pleased to see you again," he welcomed, his voice lighter as his eyes focused on her. "May I introduce my wife, Margaery of House Tyrell?"

"You are both very welcome here," Margaery smiled, her voice soft and somehow angelic sounding. "I am so very sorry for your loss."

Maliya hid a grimace at the words, noting the sudden tension in Lady Stark's shoulders. While the words were conveyed with a sadness and warmth, Margaery Tyrell had likely never met Lord Stark and therefore, her words were empty. "You are most kind," Lady Stark answered automatically.

King Renly raised his voice for all to hear. "My lady, I swear to you I will see the Lannisters answer for your husband's murder. When I take King's Landing, I'll being you Joffrey's head."

"It will be enough to know that jutice was done," Lady Stark responded, inclining her head.

"Has your son marched against Tywin Lannister yet?" A heated voice demanded. Maliya's eyes flashed at both the tone and the question as her head snapped around to see the Knight of Flowers standing behind them, an arrogant expression on his face.

"Why do you ask?" Maliya questioned, her voice as sharp as one of Obara's whips. "Are you waiting to see the outcome of the battle before you decide to actually join the war?"

A furious expression crossed his face but Lady Stark spoke before he could, throwing her a warning glance. "I apologize for my good-daughter, it has been a long and tiresome journey."

The pretty Knight of Flowers, however, wasn't ready to let his anger go. "If Robb Stark," he continued, spitting his name disrespectfully. "Wants to make a pact with us, he shouldn't have sent his wife and his mother, he should have come himself."

Maliya's barely controlled temper flared to life once more and she found herself struggling to resist the urge to break his nose on his too perfect face. Before she could even entertain the idea any further, it was Lady Stark who spoke, her face calm but her voice strained with anger and exasperation. "My son is fighting a _war_ , not playing at one."

Maliya's gaze flickered to King Renly at the slight, but he smiled at her after a moment. "Don't worry, my lady," he assured her, standing and offering a hand to his young wife as they decended the steps and stopped in front of them. "Our war is just beginning." He looked between the two of them. "Come, I will lead you both to your tents."

The soldiers around them bowed as their small group walked off. Lady Brienne fell into step behind King Renly and Lady Stark, leaving Maliya and Queen Margaery to bring up the rear. Maliya started in surprise, looking over at the other queen when she slipped her arm through hers, her innocent, doe-like eyes shining with happiness. "I cannot tell you how nice it is going to be to have another woman stay with us," she chatted, a bright smile on her face. "I have my brother here, of course, and Renly, but camping with an army can get quite lonely, can't it?" Maliya made some vague noise of acknowledgement, but it didn't seem to deter the younger girl. "Do you know what they call your husband? The Young Wolf. They say that he has the ability to turn into a wolf, that he eats the flesh of those that he kills."

Maliya couldn't hold back her tinkering laugh. "And who is this 'they' of which you speak?" She questioned, her voice light. "Do they also believe in snarks, grumpkins and unicorns? I can assure you, Your Grace, that my husband does not turn into a wolf and howl at the moon."

Queen Margaery shook her head, waving her other hand dismissively. "Please, call me Margaery, I insist. We are both queens, and the use of our proper titles seems both silly and confusing." Maliya nodded in response and blinked at the beaming smile Margaery sent her. The girl seemed friendly, open and innocent and Maliya felt her senses sharpen and her distrust grow. They stopped in front of two identical tents and Margaery let go of her arm. "You must promise me that you'll stop by my tent sometime soon and have a cup of tea with me."

"I should like nothing more," Maliya lied, plastering a smile on her face, still trying to puzzle out if this girl was as innocent as she appeared or if the entire act was fake.

Lady Stark thanked their hosts for their generosity, waiting until they were out of sight before putting a hand on Maliya's back and gently pushing her into one of the tents. Frowning, Maliya pulled away from her, glancing at her over her shoulder in confusion. "My lady, what - ?"

"Are you trying to get us imprisoned or killed?" Lady Stark hissed, blue eyes flashing.

Maliya gaped at her, hurt and confusion spreading through her. "Of course not! Why would you – "

"You had best learn to control that temper of yours, Maliya," she warned, shaking her head, and Maliya knew her well enough to know that she was on the verge of a lecture. The older woman paced in front of her in agitation, throwing her a disappointed glare every once in a while. "We are in the middle of a potential enemy's camp, surrounded by one hundred thousand of his men and you think that is the appropriate time to challenge him?"

Maliya crossed her arms, her shock fading as the heat of her anger spread through her body again. "That pretend King out there sits on his arse, watching tournaments, while our people are fighting in the battles! And that insolent little prick thinks he can insult Robb and question his decisions? I will not let him get away with that."

Lady Stark took a deep breath, stopping to stand in front of Maliya and placing her hands on her shoulders, bending slightly to catch her gaze. "We are guests here, Maliya, treated so because of the power our names hold. However, if you continue to insult Renly Baratheon, he could very easily take us prisoner and use us as a bargaining tool against Robb. You need to keep your defenses up and you need to be smart about what you say and how you say it." She sighed and stepped back. "Honestly, I had expected a Princess of Dorne to know better than to behave as you just did."

"I do!" Maliya insisted, realizing the dangerous position that her temper had put her in and feeling ashamed all the more for it. "I do know better," she whispered, her gaze dropping to the floor and her voice lowering. "It's just… I don't think as clearly about anything pertaining to Robb."

"I apologize for being harsh with you, Maliya, I've let the pressure of our mission get to me." Lady Stark smiled a soft smile, reaching a hand out to place on Maliya's cheek. "My son is lucky to have you in his life. But right now he does not need his wife to defend him, he needs his queen to help him lead. Do you think you can help me with this?"

Maliya nodded determinedly, trying to chase away her embarrassment while berating herself at the same time. She had been trained as a princess, her father had personally tutored her in how to control her facial expressions so she wouldn't betray what she was thinking! And then she fell in love with Robb and suddenly it seemed that she couldn't think straight with matters that pertained to him. It was a serious problem and it was something that she was going to have to work on – as unexpected as it was, she was a queen now and most of the time, that came first. "I apologize, my lady, I promise it won't happen again. Lady – Queen Margaery has invited me to her tent for tea, maybe her husband shares his plans with her and she'll let something slip."

Lady Stark looked thoughtful. "It's a good idea, just make sure the girl doesn't draw suspicion from your questions. It will have to wait, however, Renly has told me there's to be a feast tonight. But the sooner as we accomplish our goal, the sooner we can get back to Robb."

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

Robb slowly walked amongst his men, threading his way between the tents. He clapped a shoulder here, murmured an encouraging word there, trying to show his face and lend his support. A strange feeling spread through him, bringing with it a sad realization once he realized what it was.

He was lonely. He was surrounded by thousands of men, his own men in his own army, and he was lonely. Maliya and his mother were south with Renly Baratheon, Theon was dealing with his father on Pyke and even Grey Wind was away at the moment. He had disappeared into the woods yesterday to hunt, and was usually gone for a full day before he came trotting back, content. Usually he was back by now, but Robb wasn't too worried; he knew Grey Wind could take care of himself.

 _He's probably still by that stream in the valley,_ came the unbidden thought. He frowned, his stride faltering as his stupid dream from last night surfaced to the front of his mind, yet again. No matter how hard he tried to push it away, flashes of the dream kept coming back. The strength in his legs as he ran, the sights and scents of the forest and the taste of the meat as his teeth clenched around his preys throat. _It was just a dream, you idiot,_ Robb scolded himself furiously. _You were thinking about Grey before you fell asleep, which was why you dreamt about him. You do not_ actually _know where he was or what he was doing._

Forcibly shoving the matter from his mind, Robb put a smile on his face as he stopped to talk to a passing soldier who was walking by on crutches. He tried to focus on the conversation he was having but he was too easily distracted. Something caught his eye over the man's shoulder and Robb frowned. "I'm sorry, will you excuse me?" Robb asked quickly, interrupting the man mid-sentence and then walking away before he could respond.

Robb forgot the man as soon as he was out of sight. A deep frown had crossed his face, his heart leaping in his chest. His eyes were glued to the woman with the long black hair walking ahead of him, not paying attention to where he was going. He bumped shoulders with people, he tripped over a spare shield lying on the ground and nearly impaled himself on a sword but he didn't care. _What in the seven hells is she doing here?_ He thought, a strange mixture of anger, frustration and relief washing through him. _Did she somehow sneak past my mother and twenty guards to make her way back here?_ He mentally paused, acknowledging that it was probably exactly something she would do.

He called her name as he caught up to her, eyebrows narrowing when she ignored him. "Maliya!" He growled in irritation, reaching a hand out to grab her elbow and spinning her around. "Why aren't you answering – " He froze in astonishment, blinking stupidly down at a face that was most certainly not his wife's. Now that he was aware of his mistake, he could see the differences. While they both had black hair and brown eyes, and they were both the same height, her hair had none of Maliya's natural curl, her eyes didn't have Maliya's twinkle for life, her face was longer and her dress was plain. She didn't quite have Maliya's delicate, exotic beauty. "I am _so_ sorry," Robb apologized profusely, yanking his hand back immediately, horror in his eyes. "I thought – I thought you were – "

"Your wife the queen?" The woman asked, quirking an eyebrow. Robb took another comfortable step back; even her accent was wrong. "I'm flattered, Your Grace."

"Yes, well, that was still highly inappropriate and I have to apologize again," Robb responded, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I don't know why I mistook you for her, I know that she's not here."

"You miss her," she replied simply, shrugging. "Even though you know she isn't here, you saw what you wanted to see."

Robb knew she was right. Maliya's absence was a terrible ache in his chest, as if she had taken his heart with her when she left. He missed the way she curled against him when she slept. He missed the way she looked at him the way she looked at no one else – with those warm brown eyes and that expression that made him feel as if he could do anything. He missed her counsel and their late night conversations. He missed her lips and what she could do with them. He missed her more than when he left from Winterfell and he was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake in sending her away.

"What's your name?" Robb asked, trying to focus.

"Talisa," she replied, smiling softly when he made an expectant expression. "Talisa Maegyr."

He frowned, not recognizing her family name. "Where are you from, Talisa?"

"Volantis." She paused as someone at one of the medical tents called her name. "Excuse me, Your Grace, I have to help pack up the supplies. It was a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Lady Talisa," he murmured as she smiled at him once more before walking away from him.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

Fingers laced together, back straight, Maliya stopped in front of the guard standing in front of Margaery Tyrell's tent. "Good evening," Maliya greeted with a polite smile. "I believe Her Grace is expecting me?" The guard gave her a solemn nod before pulling the tent flap aside so she could enter.

Maliya did so, each and every one of her defenses raised. She ran through all of her father's lessons once she received Margaery's invitation, determined to try and get as much information as possible without alerting the other girl to her intentions. There was one thing that was glaringly obvious to anyone who lived in that camp. Margaery and Renly didn't share a tent, and Maliya couldn't figure out why. She had spent the past few days quietly digging around the camp, listening to the men talk, who seemed to gossip just as much as the northern army. She didn't know if it was true, but the men sniggered and joked that Margaery was still a virgin.

"Maliya!" Margaery cried enthusiastically, gracefully rising from her chair and grabbing her hands with a warm smile. "You don't mind that I call you that, do you?" She asked, her smile fading and a sudden worried look crossing her face. "I know I asked you to just call me Margaery – "

"It's perfectly fine, I assure you," Maliya interrupted, matching her warm tone and reassuring smile. Margaery returned her smile, releasing her hands and gesturing to the small table where a pot of tea and two cups were waiting. Maliya looked around the tent, taking in the opulent finery of the tent, the expensive carpet, the large bed with its silk curtains. It seemed a little excessive in her opinion, and it must be a terrible pain to set up and take down each time that they moved. "Your tent is lovely," Maliya complimented in a light voice as she took a seat and crossed her ankles. "And so clean! You're lucky. Robb is always leaving his boots in the middle of the floor or his armor is all over the place when he's not wearing it."

Margaery sighed, giving her a knowing look and a slightly disappointed smile. "You don't have to pretend with me, Maliya, you've been here for several days now. I'm sure you're well aware that Renly and I have separate tents."

Acknowledging the fact with a nod of her head, Maliya had to grudgingly give her a small amount of respect for calling her out instead of pretending otherwise. She put down her tea cup gently, leaning forward with an earnest expression on her face. "I do hope you'll forgive me, Margaery, I just couldn't contain my curiosity." She feigned a chagrined look. "My father always said it would get me into trouble."

Margaery reached over and patted her hand reassuringly. "It's alright, I understand! Renly and I do not exactly have the most conventional marriage, to be sure. Then again, I never quite imagined getting married in the middle of a war," she laughed prettily, brushing her hair over her shoulder. Maliya couldn't help but notice how she neatly sidestepped the reasoning behind the separate tents. "Truth be told, I hope this war ends soon. Can you imagine raising a child by yourself while your husband is off fighting in battle after battle?"

This was not exactly where Maliya pictured this conversation going, and she desperately hoped that her smile didn't appear as forced as it felt. "I imagine it would be quite difficult."

Margaery didn't seem to notice her discomfort. "I know women have been dealing with this issue for centuries, most with more than one child." She shook her head with wonderment and sighed. "As queens it will be doubly important for us to learn, since we will be raising the future princes and princesses of Westeros."

Maliya took another sip of tea, though she would have much preferred a cup of Dornish Red at the moment. "You and Renly have talked about having children already?" _Haven't they been married for all of five minutes?_

"Yes, of course!" Margaery exclaimed, looking genuinely surprised. "Every king needs an heir to prove the legitimacy of his claim to the throne, especially in times such as these." She paused, looking at Maliya over her tea cup. "How long have you and your husband been married?"

Maliya was impressed all over again. She honestly couldn't decipher if Margaery was just politely curious or if her question was part of a deeper, alterior motive. She was willing to bet it was the latter.

They stared at each other for a moment, the Queen in the North versus a Queen in the South, both of them acknowledging this meeting for what it was: a chance to learn what they could about the other – motives, information, strengths and weaknesses. A part of her wished that they could drop the façade and speak openly, but Maliya knew that this wasn't how this little dance worked. They would test each other, pushing and prodding until one of them let something slip, delivering compliments and insults alike with a smile.

"Robb and I have been married for a year now," Maliya answered, subtley straightening her shoulders.

Margaery's expression fell into one of sympathetic concern. "A year? How are you handling it? I would be a terrible wreck, you must be so strong."

Maliya's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How am I handling my marriage? I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand your meaning, I love my husband – " She broke off, realization dawning in her eyes, as a strange, uncomfortable feeling swooped through her stomach. "You aren't talking about my marriage. You're talking about the fact that I haven't produced an heir yet."

Margaery looked at her, hesitating for a moment before deciding to say what was on her mind. "I know it takes some women longer to conceive than others… but a year? Aren't you at all worried about possible complications? Don't you want a child of your own? What if – what if you can't – "

Maliya forced herself to smile despite the fact that the other queen was basically insulting her role as a woman and a wife. "Robb and I will conceive a child when the gods grant us with that gift," she told her, knowing that this response is hardly one that could be argued with. "I know that the reason I don't have a child isn't because my husband doesn't love me or desire me, and for now that's all the matters." Something flashed across Margaery's face, but it was gone before she could decipher what it was. "I wouldn't worry so much about my marriage, especially when we could be focusing on the reason that Lady Stark and I are here in the first place."

"Ah yes," Margaery nodded, picking up her tea cup again and taking another sip. "Because you want to form an alliance with us."

Maliya leaned forward, her eyes bright. "If we joined forces, the Lannisters wouldn't stand a chance against us. We would easily be able to defeat their army and we could overtake King's Landing."

"And what would happen when we do win?" Margaery asked, leaning back with a raised eyebrow. "There would be two kings and two queens – how would we decide who gets the throne?"

"That's simple enough," Maliya shrugged. "Neither Robb nor I have any desire to sit on the Iron Throne. If we win the war, we only ask a few things in return. The Riverlands must be protected and treated fairly, and then we will return home to the North, which will be completely independent from the rest of Westeros. You and Renly will remain king and queen of the south and our relationship will be as equal allies."

Margaery's face was carefully blank. "So he will be Renly of the House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the _Six_ Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm? You would have us rule a broken kingdom?"

"Robb did not claim himself to be King when his father died," Maliya murmured softly, with her head tilted to the side, knowing that this was exactly what Renly did. "His own men crowned him the King in the North and it's for them and his family that he's fighting this war in the first place. If Renly and Robb ally in order to win this war, then yes, I would have you rule over six kingdoms instead of seven. Tell me, why would we fight for northern independence, win the war and then allow ourselves to be put back under the thumb of the south again?"

"You bring up some fair points, Maliya, and I can understand where you and your husband are coming from. Ultimately, however, the decision to ally with the north lies with the king. It will be Renly that you need to convince, not me."

* * *

"Did it seem like Queen Margaery would be on our side?" Lady Stark asked when Maliya visited her tent later that night. "From what I've been able to gather, Renly was able to crown himself king due to the support of Highgarden. Margaery Tyrell could prove to be incredibly influential if she would support our cause."

Maliya sat, suddenly exhausted, though her mind refused to stop spinning. "I'm not so sure she would," Maliya admitted in a low voice. "She said that she understand where we were coming from, not that she would help us in any way. She didn't seem entirely pleased with the fact that the north wants to keep their independence. In fact, her exact words were, "You would have us rule a broken kingdom?'"

"From what I gathered, Renly is of the same mind," Lady Stark sighed, crossing her arms. "He's entirely too focused on losing the north."

Lady Stark continued speaking, but Maliya couldn't focus on her voice. She thought that she had gone into that meeting prepared, but in the end she felt as if she were on the defensive for most of the conversation. Margaery's words were bouncing around inside her head, bringing with it a seedling of doubt that seemed to take root for the first time. _Every king needs an heir… Don't you want a child of your own?_ That same feeling went through her stomach at the thought. "Maliya?" She blinked, refocusing to see Lady Stark who was now sitting next to her, a hand on her arm and a look of concern on her face. "Is everything alright?"

Maliya hesitated, struggling with the need to hide any weaknesses and her sudden insecurities and doubts. "Lady Stark, have you…" She trailed off, before taking a deep breath and plowing ahead. "Have you thought it… odd that I haven't become pregnant yet? Margaery mentioned something about possible compilcations and asked whether I was worried." _Why do you care?_ Maliya asked herself in confused bewilderment as she watched Lady Stark's expression soften. _Not having children is your choice. What do you care what other people think?_ Maliya looked up into the her good-mother's face and saw Robb's eyes looking down at her. ...b _ecause maybe for the first time, you're realizing the effect this has on him_ , a tiny voice said in the back of her mind.

"If I'm being completely honest, I have thought about it a few times," Lady Stark admitted in a cautious voice.

"Then why haven't you said anything before?" She asked, puzzled.

"You and Robb didn't seem that concerned. It's a delicate subject, Maliya, and conceiving a child isn't an exact science, it differs from woman to woman. If you don't mind me asking, do you know if your mother had any trouble conceiving or suffered any miscarriages? Sometimes these complications can be passed down from mother to daughter." Maliya shook her head, knowing she was talking about Mallario. "What about your aunt?" Lady Stark suddenly exclaimed, eyes widening. "It was known throughout Westeros that Princess Elia had trouble recovering from the births of her two children. I wonder if she had trouble conceiving…" She muttered to herself, frowning.

Lady Stark saw the startled, stricken look on Maliya's face at the mention of her real mother and misinterpreted it. "Oh, my dear, I wouldn't spend too much time worrying about it. Both you and Robb have been under incredible amounts of stress these past couple of months and that can have an effect on these things." She paused, surveying Maliya through those all knowing blue eyes. "Do you want children, Maliya?" She asked gently.

"Of course!" Maliya answered immediately, spouting the answer that all of Westeros would expect to hear. "It is my duty as a woman and a wife to give my husband a son – "

Lady Stark gave her a small smile. "I didn't ask why you had to have children, I asked whether you wanted them." Maliya looked down at her hands at her words, suddenly feeling very young and unsure. Tears suddenly pricked at the corner of her eyes, blurring her vision and bringing a wave of homesickness with it. She missed her father and her uncle, Arianne, Trystane and all her Sand Snake cousins. Lady Stark put her hand on her arm again, drawing her attention. "I know I'm not your mother, but you've been my good-daughter for a year now and I do consider you part of the family. I'm here to talk if you ever need to." To say Maliya was astonished would be an understatement. She must look pretty miserable if her good mother was attempting to be close to her for the first time since she married her son. Lady Stark chuckled at the expression on her face. "Well, don't look so surprised! I've been… a pretty absent mother to my children these past couple months. Robb loves you and I can see that you love him too. And you helped look after Bran and Rickon when I was away."

Maliya fidgeted slightly, looking down at her hands before taking a deep breath. "My mother left when I was very young, shortly after my brother Quentyn was sent away to be fostered with the Yronwoods. The only female influences I had in my life were my older sister and my cousins and none of them ever married or had babies of their own. I never really had any interest in having children and I'm not sure what kind of mother I would be, but with Robb… he would be such an amazing father."

"Yes," Lady Stark murmured, her expression softening at the mention of her eldest child. "Robb has really grown this past year, not that he was given much of a choice," she added under her breath. "He would be an incredible father."

"It's just, with everything that's going on – "

Lady Stark shook her head quickly. "No, no, don't you do that Maliya, don't you be afraid to live your life just because we're in the middle of the war," she told Maliya fiercely, her blue eyes a mixture of determination and sadness. "Nothing is certain in our lives anymore and if you pull back or hesitate, you could miss out on something incredible and by then it could be too late."

Maliya didn't have to ask what she meant by that. She could see the agony of losing her husband written all over her face. "Thank you, Lady Stark," Maliya whispered, reaching for the older woman's hand.

"I think, dear girl, that it's about time you start calling me Catelyn," Lady Stark grinned, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement. "We are family, after all."

* * *

 **Theon's POV**

 _Robb,_

 _Coming home to Pyke didn't exactly go as I had planned. It's been hard to remember what my father was like during these nine years away from home, but I never expected his reaction when he saw me. It was as if he was angry his only son and heir had finally returned home, and to make matters worse, it appears he's raised my sister up in my place. He's rejected your offer and says he will pay the iron price for his crown._

 _You need to send men north as soon as possible. My father knows most of the men went south with you and he's planning an attack._

 _He's questioning where my loyalties lie, Robb, and I fear that he's right. I'm finding myself torn between you and him and I don't know what I'm going to do -_

Theon abruptly stopped writing with a frustrated noise, slamming the quill on the table and ripping the parchment into tiny pieces, hating how much he sounded like a whiny cunt. Grabbing a new piece of parchment, he wrote:

 _Robb,_

 _I hope this reaches you in time. My father has rejected the offer and plans to attack the north, raiding the shores and taking Deepwood Motte. Mobilize your army and make for the north before it's too late. I'll write again when I can._

 _Theon_

He nodded once in approval after reading it over again and went to go seal it when he was hit with another moment of doubt and uncertainty. Ever since he had come home, he felt as if he were being torn in two directions. On the one hand, he knew he should warn Robb of what his father was planning, he knew that his plan put Robb's little brothers at risk. He swore an oath to Robb on the night he was crowned King, and he did view Robb as a sort of brother.

But then he thought back to the look of absolute digust on his father's face when he saw him for the first time. He mocked his clothes, which he didn't pay the iron price for and all but accused him of going against the Greyjoy name. He remembered that incident with that thrice damned sister of his and how she had taken his rightful place by his fathers side while he got stuck with eight measly ships. He was ordered to do reaver's work with his uncle to oversee his progress _and_ Dagmer Cleftjaw was sent to basically nominalize his command. And then Theon was furious all over again. It wasn't his fault that he had been taken as a hostage all those years ago! It wasn't his fault that he had to abandon the Ironborn ways so that he could survive all those years in the North! And it certainly wasn't his fault that his father thought his allegiance lay with the Starks.

His mind had flip flopped constantly since returning home. One day he was determined to warn Robb of the impending attack and the other he vowed to stay silent. Now that the time had come to make a final decision, Theon knew what he must do. With a dark expression on his face, he picked up his latest letter and held it above the candle flame, watching as the parchment caught fire.

 _I'll prove to them that I haven't forgotten what it means to be Ironborn. I'll show my father and that bitch sister of mine that I have no loyalty to the Starks, that they were just the people who held me hostage. Robb will have to understand – I'm doing what is best for me and for my family. The Seastone chair is mine by rights and by the time I'm finished, father will call me his heir instead of Asha._

He knew just how to begin proving his loyalty to his family too. He would be baptized again in the name of the Drowned God and then… then he would prove his worth.

* * *

 **Authro's Note: Well, there it is! This little trip is forcing Maliya to examine herself in a few different ways. She thought she was pretty smooth with politics but her conversation with Margaery didn't go as she had planned and now she's beginning to doubt something she used to be pretty certain on. As for Theon.. he's being an arrogant, insecure idiot, but that's nothing new.**

 **Hopefully next chapter is easier to write. Littlefinger comes for a visit, Maliya meets Stannis and Melisandre and the reinforcements from Dorne finally arrive! If you guys feel like helping me out, leave a review and let me know anything that you think or want to happen! Sometimes when I read through some of your suggestions, it triggers something that I can add to my story.**

 **Thank you all for being so understanding. Your support means everything to me.**

Guest 1: Thank you for reviewing and for your help! I'm assuming from your review that you hate Littlefinger haha and I understand how you feel! I'm also fascinated by him if I'm being honest. He's so manipulative and deceitful that I'm left constantly wandering how his brain works.

Guest 2: Thank you, I'm glad you liked the scene between Jaime and Maliya, and I definitely think they have an interesting dynamic, which I hope to further explore! I'm not so sure Melisandre is crazy. Personally I think that she has some type of power and I think she genuinely believes what she's seeing. Her motives aren't entirely clear yet and her mystery makes her intriguiging!

Guest 3: I'm glad you liked the chapter, thank you for taking the time to review. Yes, I believe that Jaime and Maliya will talk again soon! I hope you enjoyed the scenes between Margaery and Maliya.

Guest 4: Glad you liked it, hope you like this one too!

Guest33: Thanks for reviewing! I have big plans for the dragon and they will be coming into play soon, don't you worry. Hope you liked this chapter!

Guest 5: Thanks for your review, here's the update!

Guest 6: Thanks for the review, glad you love the story so far. I hope you like where I continue to take it!


	19. The Letter

**Author's Note: Hello everybody! Thank you so much for your reviews/favorites/follows. I apologize for the long wait on this chapter but I had writer's block, yet again. Hopefully things will be easier after this chapter – there will be more original content and I'm excited to show you guys what I have planned.**

 **Special thanks to Dannylionthe1st and Hpuni101 for reading through this chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 19: The Letter

"Good evening, Ser Wendel," Maliya greeted the knight standing guard outside her tent. He smiled at her as she stepped past him and she couldn't help but return it. He was a loud, boisterous man who was generally cheery despite the circumstances and seeing him every morning usually lifted her spirits.

"Evening, Your Grace." He held the tent flap aside for her to enter and let it fall when she stepped inside. Maliya took two steps forward and froze in place, shocked to find a strange man standing at the opposite end of her tent.

The man stared at her for half a second with a curious sort of surprise on his face, before his eyes flickered to her bed two feet away from him and back again. "What do you think you're – " she began to demanded in a heated voice, but before she had even finished speaking, the man spun around with a swirl of his cloak and disappeared out the back of the tent. Maliya stood there stupidly for a heartbeat or two before she was able to overcome her shock. "Wait!" She cried springing forward after him. "Stop!" She looked around wildly once she was outside again, swearing under her breath when she realized that her small hesitation had made her lose him. Her eyes flickered through the dimly lit night, bouncing from soldier to soldier but not seeing the man she was looking for. He just melted into the shadows and disappeared.

"Your Grace?" Ser Wendel questioned, stepping out the back of the tent and turning to look at in in confusion. "I heard you shout… what happened to your tent? It looks like – "

"There was a man in my tent, Ser Wendel," Maliya snapped impatiently, spinning a slow circle as she continued to search. "Did you see anyone sneaking around the past couple days?"

The older man paled slightly, finally recognizing the gravity of the situation as he straightened his shoulders and looked down at her. "What did he look like?" Ser Wendel questioned, his face serious. "What was he wearing?"

"I – I don't really know, it all happened so fast," she shook her head, frowning as she tried to think. "He was a normal looking man, but his face was obscured by the hood of his cloak, which was black, I think –"

"Get back inside the tent," Ser Wendel ordered brusquely. Maliya nodded and shoved down her irritation at being spoken to in that manner, reminding herself that he was just doing his job. "I'll post two of our men on either side of your tent until we can get a new one for you. Check your belongings and make sure nothing is missing, Your Grace."

Ser Wendel went to hurry off but Maliya quickly grabbed his arm and muttered under her breath, "Search quickly but quietly, Ser Wendel, we don't want to raise any unnecessary alarms and draw attention to ourselves."

She re-entered her tent once he had left and paused, her eyes sweeping the elaborate furnishings. Everything seemed to be in its place, but Maliya headed straight for her hidden bag anyway, her heart pounding in her chest as fear and anxiety wrapped around her. A deep sigh of relief escaped her when her hands dug past the dresses and touched the smooth scales of her dragon egg. She sat there for a moment, feeling at peace as she rested her hands against it. She desperately wished she had time to figure out how to hatch the egg so she wouldn't have to carry it around with her everywhere, but going to war had sort of taken away any time to do so.

Taking another deep breath, Maliya closed the bag and put it back in its hiding spot. Although this was the only item of value in her possession at the moment, Maliya did a thorough sweep of the rest of the tent anyway. She checked under the bed, on all the tables, under the rug but it wasn't until she shook out the blankets and pillows on her bed that she noticed a small roll of parchment fall to the floor. She dropped the blankets to the floor, bending down to pick up the parchment and frowning when she realized there was no recognizable seal.

She glanced at the tear the intruder had made in the back of the tent and then back down to the parchment. Could he have snuck into her tent to secretly deliver this? Her mind immediately drifted back several months to the mysterious letter that had appeared in her basket while her and Rickon were shopping in Winter Town. It was that letter which first led her to discover the Pact of Ice and Fire, the letter that first informed her of her aunt and uncle across the sea and started her on the hunt for the missing batch of dragon eggs.

What if… what if this letter held the key to getting the dragon egg to hatch? Excitement flooded her system as she sat down on the now bare bed and quickly unraveled the letter. She only had to read the first two words to realize that this letter was from someone completely different. Not only was it not written in High Valyrian like the last letter, but the meaning behind the words held a special significance. _Good-daughter._ She stared at the words blankly for a moment before she was bombarded by a myriad of emotions.

Confusion. There were only two people in this world who would call her their good-daughter. Disbelief. Since Lady Stark was her with her and would have no reason to secretly deliver a letter to her, that only left Lord Stark. A recently murdered Lord Stark who was held for months as prisoner before he was executed. Lastly there was fear, fear of what was written in this letter and why it would have been addressed to her and not his wife or any of his other children.

Swallowing harshly, her hands shaking slightly, she forced herself to read on.

 _Good-daughter_

 _How are things back home? Of course, that is where I would prefer to be, but it appears that won't be possible for me. Whether people understand it or not, I was doing what I thought was best for the realm._

 _Lately I have been thinking a lot about family and I'm glad that you have become a part of mine. All of my children have come to truly care for you, as have I. Now I know that this may seem like a big task, but I pray that you will help look after them as I fear that I cannot. Destiny seems determined to keep us apart._

 _Regret fills me at the thought, but I have the utmost faith in them. Even though we will be separated, I will always love them. Especially now that they are growing older and finding their way in the world. Do me a favor, good-daughter, and only show this message to the others when the time is right – you'll know when that is._

 _Your good-father_

"What in the seven hells…" Maliya muttered in absolute bewilderment before reading the letter through another half a dozen times. Abruptly she was pissed. Lord Stark had one opportunity to write a final letter and he had chosen to write to her… and about what? What was so important that she needed to read this? The fact that he was doing what he thought was right? That he asked her to look after a family which she would do even if he hadn't asked? And what exactly was she supposed to tell Lady Stark and Robb? Your father/husband wrote a pointless letter with his final words in it? And what did he mean 'show this message when the time is right?' How would she know when that time is?

An image of Lady Stark's distraught, exhausted expression came to her mind and she stood, slipping the letter into the pocket of her cloak. What kind of person would she be if she withheld Lady Stark's husband's final words from her? It would obviously bring her more questions, but if it could also bring her comfort than wouldn't that be enough?

Nodding resolutely to herself, Maliya swept out of the tent. "Your Grace!" The guard at her tent called in surprise, jolting forward to hurry at her side. "Ser Wendel instructed you to stay in your tent – "

"I need to see Lady Stark, I'm afraid it's urgent," Maliya said breezily as she walked. She glanced up at the man's worried face and sighed. "You're more than welcome to accompany me, if you'd like, though I don't think my safety is in jeopardy. If the intruder had wanted to hurt or kill me, he would have had the perfect opportunity right when I walked into the tent."

"The King trusted us with yours and Lady Stark's well-being," the guard told her, a slightly apologetic tone in his voice. "I hope you'll forgive me if I leave nothing to chance."

"Of course," Maliya conceded, feeling slightly guilty that she had devalued the importance of his job. It wasn't his fault that he was unaware that the intruder had only broken into her tent to deliver a letter. She glanced up at the man again when they reached Lady Stark's tent. "Thank you for assisting me. Will you be staying here – " She broke off with a noise of surprise as a man suddenly burst out of the tent and slammed into her, making her stumble back several steps. She caught a glimpse of his distracted and angry face as he mumbled something under his breath.

The guard that had escorted Maliya snagged the man's arm in an iron grip before he could walk away. "Apologize to the Queen," the guard growled, shaking him slightly.

The man blinked as if noticing his surroundings for the first time and a contrite expression immediately crossed his face. "You must be Queen Maliya, I presume? Petyr Baelish, at your service." He gave her a short bow, all traces of his previous anger gone. "I apologize for my inexcusable behavior, allow me to make it up to you."

"Perhaps another time, Lord Baelish," Maliya acknowledged with a polite smile, gesturing for the guard to release him. "I have other matters I must attend to."

"Of course, Your Grace," Lord Baelish smiled, inclining his head towards her. "Some other time, then."

Maliya waited until Lord Baelish slipped into the darkness before turning to the guard again. "I'll be out shortly." Taking a deep breath, her hand slipping around the folded piece of parchment in her cloak pocket, she strode inside the tent.

Her steps faltered, her eyes widening as they fell upon the hunched form of Lady Stark. She was kneeling on the ground, her hands resting on a large trunk, but what alarmed Maliya the most was the expression of her face. It was paler than usual and devastation and grief was rolling off her in waves. "Lady Stark?" Maliya called gently, taking a hesitant step forward. She looked up at the sound of Maliya's voice, staring at her blankly as tears silently streamed down her face. "What's happened, my lady?" She asked in a hushed voice, walking over to crouch next to Lady Stark. Maliya's eyes dropped to the trunk that Lady Stark was hunched over. "What is this?" Lady Stark didn't answer at first, her gaze dropping to the trunk in question and Maliya didn't know what to do. She actually looked over her shoulder to the entrance of the tent at one point, as if hoping someone would walk in to help her. "Catelyn?" She prompted, the birth name sounding odd coming out of her mouth. She reached out an uncertain hand and laid it on the other woman's arm.

Lady Stark sat up slightly and Maliya had never seen her look so broken and defeated. "It's a gift from Tyrion Lannister," she told Maliya in a hoarse voice. "A token of his goodwill."

Maliya shifted closer as Lady Stark took a deep breath and slowly lifted the lid. "Seven hells," Maliya muttered, her breath catching in her throat when she looked down at the pile of bones neatly arranged in the trunk. "Is that…"

"Ned," Lady Stark confirmed, her blue eyes swimming with tears once more. "Not too long ago I was holding him in my arms, and now this is all that remains of my sweet husband."

Fear spread through Maliya as she momentarily tried to place herself in Lady Stark's place, looking down at Robb's bones. The pain in her chest made her automatically shy away from the thought and she pushed the matter from her mind, trying to focus on something else. "Why would Lord Tyrion send this to you?" Maliya asked, frowning. "What does he want from us in return?"

Lady Stark slowly shook her head, closing the lid. "I'm so tired. Tired of the pain and the fear and tired of trying to play this game."

"It's not a game for us though, is it?" Maliya questioned with a frown, thinking out loud. She didn't even notice that Lady Stark had neatly side-stepped her questions. "It may be a game for Cersei and Tyrion Lannister who are hiding safely away from the fighting in King's Landing. We're in the thick of it, on the battlefield with our lives at risk. It's a game of survival for us and you are the backbone of this family, my lady. Without you, I fear we would fall apart."

"I'm not really sure how to do this on my own," Lady Stark admitted, her lips twitching up into an empty, lost smile.

"Well, then it's a good thing you're not alone," Maliya announced firmly, reaching out to grasp Lady Stark's hand once more. "Robb and I are here for whatever you need."

"I appreciate that, but what I need are my daughters returned to me, safe and unharmed." Maliya was slightly reassured to hear some of the determination creep back into Lady Stark's voice.

"Was it Lord Baelish who delivered this to you? I met him briefly after he left your tent, he looked upset - "

Anger rippled across Lady Stark's face. "The nerve of that man!" She spat. "He comes in here, playing on my worry for the girls, saying that they're safe _for now_ – "

"So the Lannister's have Arya then?" Maliya interrupted, the hope evident in her voice. Since there had been no mention of her in any of Sansa's letters, most of them had assumed that she was either lost or dead, though they would never had admitted it out loud. To admit it was to accept it and that was something that none of them could do.

"That's what he says, though I find it hard to believe a man who betrayed my husband and played a huge role in his death."

Maliya sat there, stunned, Lady Starks dark words washing over her. "What?" She gasped. "He – He betrayed – why are we just sitting here, why haven't we arrested him - "

"We cannot do anything rash or foolish," Lady Stark admonished, pulling Maliya down because she had actually stood up as if she were going to arrest him right at that moment. "We have no proof of Littlefinger's treachery, and even if we did, his actions have been to the advantage of the Lannisters and they would never admit to his guilt."

"That's not right," Maliya argued, shaking her head. "We're just supposed to let him walk free?"

"For now, we have no other choice."

Feeling the injustice of it all and not wanting to upset Lady Stark further, Maliya let the matter go. "So what do we do now?"

"Now," Lady Stark began in a solemn voice, turning her gaze to the trunk again. "Now we take a rare moment to forget everything else and just grieve."

Maliya didn't know how long she sat on the ground next to her good mother, silently lending her support. Even though she felt awkward and uncomfortable, Maliya didn't feel unwelcome or as if she were intruding on a private moment. After Lady Stark's kind words of encouragement the other night, Maliya felt it was the least she could do.

So, she sat there, uncomplaining as she lost feelings in her legs, not even realizing until later that night that she had completely forgotten all about the letter that was sitting in her pocket.

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

Death was everywhere he looked. Bodies bearing both the sigils of the direwolf and the lion were strewn all across the field. Blood, insides and other various body parts were mixed with the mud as Robb walked through in an effort to determine the casualties they had taken in the battle. Victory thrummed through his veins, bringing with it that addictive high after a triumphant win, but with the smell of death invading his nose, it was impossible to forget all the lives that had been lost today.

"Five Lannister's dead for every one of ours," Lord Bolton was saying in his cold, smooth voice. "We've nowhere to keep the prisoners and barely enough food to feed our own men."

"Find room, Lord Bolton," Robb ordered in a grave tone. "I won't give the Lannisters any other excuses to harm my sisters." He waited until the older man nodded before turning once more to survey the field. Some of his men were gathering fallen swords, shields and other weapons and he caught sight of Lady Talisa and several other Silent Sisters tending to a Lannister soldiers leg.

"Your Grace!" Robb turned to see a young soldier running towards him, his eyes wide with excitement. "Your Grace, I – I just – "

"It's alright, just take a deep breath," Robb coached, putting a hand on the man's shoulder as he bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for air.

"I apologize, Your Grace," the soldier said, straightening and looking slightly embarrassed. "I've just come from patrol to the west of camp and – well it's incredible really, though admittedly they're several hours too late – "

"Say what you mean to say and say it quickly," Roose drawled. "His Grace doesn't have time to stand here listening to you all day." If he had been a normal man, Robb could picture him rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"It's Prince Oberyn Martell!" The soldier blurted quickly after a slightly scared look at Bolton. "He's here, with several thousand of his men. He requested to see you and his niece, the Queen."

 _Prince Oberyn? With several thousand men? Maliya said she never received an answer from her father after her letter pleading for help… could this be the help that they had been waiting for?_ "Escort Prince Oberyn to the command tent, but have his men set up a temporary camp where they are," Robb ordered. "The Martell's are family, but we're in the middle of a war and can never be too careful. Tell the Prince I'll be with him shortly." The young soldier nodded and took off. "I trust you can finish overseeing things here, Lord Bolton?"

"Of course, Your Grace," Lord Bolton answered, inclining his head but Robb was already moving in the direction of his already saddled horse. He called for several guards to join him on the journey back to their camp. Robb spotted Grey Wind off to his right and whistled, breaking his horse into a trot as the wolf easily loped back to his side.

The ride back to camp was mercifully short; Oberyn Martell wasn't a patient man and Robb didn't want to keep him waiting. He found the Greatjon waiting for him when he got to camp. "I take it you've heard the bloody Viper is here," the Greatjon grumbled as Robb swung down off his horse and handed the reins to a nearby guard. "Convenient how he shows up just hours after the battle is already won."

"A fact that I'm sure the Prince will be very upset to hear," Robb answered over his shoulder as he began to stride towards the command tent. "Maliya says he loves to fight almost as much as he loves to fuck."

"Which I've heard is a lot," the Greatjon chortled. "Shall I go with you – "

"I'd like to meet with him alone," Robb answered, pausing to turn and face him. "I'm not sure how he's going to react to the fact that Maliya isn't here. Don't worry, I'll have Greywind with me as a precaution, even if I do feel it's unnecessary. Martell is a smart man; he wouldn't harm me when he's surrounded by so many of my men." The Greatjon nodded and Robb clapped him gratefully on the arm before entering the tent.

Greywind looked up at him in confusion when he stopped short with a frown. A beautiful young woman with fair skin and golden hair was sitting at the table. Her blue eyes turned toward him when he stepped inside and she graced him with a sweet smile.

"Well, if it isn't the King in the North," a familiar, accented voice drawled. Robb looked up and noticed Prince Oberyn for the first time, who had been lurking near the back of the tent. He stalked forward, his hands clasped behind his back. "This is my daughter, Tyene. Tyene this is Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell and King in the North."

Tyene gracefully stood, her long sleeved blue dress perfectly matching her eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace," she smiled, giving him a curtsy.

Robb politely inclined his head back towards her. "Pleased to meet you."

Prince Oberyn's shrewd gaze trailed over the armor that Robb hadn't had time to change out of. There was dried blood splattered across it, a fact that the prince surely wasn't going to miss. The tension in the air changed slightly, though the expression on Prince Oberyn's face was still light and pleasant. "I hope you don't take offense, Your Grace, but your face isn't the one that I hoped to see after several long weeks at sea. Where is my niece?"

 _Careful now_ , Robb cautioned himself. _Explain where Maliya is calmly and with a great amount of patience._ Robb moved further into the tent, Grey Wind padding along at his side. He pretended not to notice Tyene's eyes widen at the size of the wolf as he passed her. "Maliya and my lady mother have journeyed south to treat with Renly Baratheon."

Prince Oberyn's eyes narrowed as Tyene returned to her seat. "You sent her into the heart of enemy territory alone?" He questioned in a smooth, dangerous voice. "I can hardly believe that this idea was Maliya's, she would never turn her back from the battles that you would be facing."

"The idea wasn't hers," Robb admitted, bracing his hands against the table. "I felt this was a good learning experience for Maliya, especially with my mother as a mentor. I sent twenty of my best men with them so they are not unprotected. I can assure you that I would not have sent her if I felt that she was in any danger."

"Permission to speak freely?" Tyene asked, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Of course," Robb gestured for her to go on.

"If you truly knew Maliya, you would know how much she would hate being sent away from the battle that you so obviously just faced," Tyene began, her eyes trailing over the blood on Robb's armor just as her father did, before turning her shrewd gaze on him once more. "Let's be honest, Maliya's presence while negotiating with Renly Baratheon is unnecessary since your lady mother was already attending. So, did you send her because you didn't want her here? I know how you Northerners feel about women and their roles during a war and about women fighting in general."

"Of course not," Robb reassured them immediately, actually feeling slightly offended that they would think that of him. "I love my wife, and while it's true that I might not have wanted her here at first because I feared for her safety, her presence here has become invaluable to me."

"We are glad to hear it," Prince Oberyn said, moving to lounge in the chair across from Robb, completely at ease. "And of course, we look forward to speaking with Maliya herself when she returns from her journey."

Robb nodded, understanding what the prince was so casually implying. He would take Robb's word for now since there was no other option, but as soon as Maliya returned, they would get her account of their relationship first hand to see if Robb was telling the truth. Then they would form their opinion and take any action from there. Even though Robb was a king now, he would never forget the conversation that he and Prince Oberyn had at his and Maliya's wedding.

"Now, let us get down to business," Robb said, casually changing the subject. He sat across from the other two, his arms resting on the table and his fingers clasped in front of him. "While I have some hope as to why you are here, I wish to hear it from you."

"We received Maliya's letter and are here to provide whatever help we can," Prince Oberyn told him, spreading his arms in front of him. "Unfortunately, Dorne's position in this war is precarious. We are too far south and King's Landing and the Lannister's stand between us and you, our allies. As of right now, Dorne is still considered neutral in this war. Even though Maliya is married to you, we cannot say that we support you outright because we are alone if the Lannister's decide to attack us. My brother and I would never leave Maliya without aid, so we have decided that we could spare five thousand men under my command. All of my men are wearing nondescript clothing – there are no banners, no Martell sigil, nothing that would give the enemy any cause to believe Dorne is aiding you. The goal is to keep up this façade for as long as possible and would appreciate your understanding and assistance in doing so."

There was a solemn expression on Robb's face as he absorbed what Prince Oberyn was saying. "I appreciate and understand Dorne's position," Robb acknowledged, looking between them. "Thank you, Prince Oberyn, for answering Maliya's call for aid, and please give my thanks to Prince Doran as well." Prince Oberyn inclined his head, graciously accepting Robb's thanks. "I will explain to my bannermen the importance of keeping your presence here confidential. We will gift to you any spare armor and helmets for your men to wear to blend in with my own."

"I appreciate that, Your Grace."

Robb turned towards Tyene. "I hope you'll forgive me for being blunt, but why did you accompany your father to join us?"

"For Maliya," Tyene responded simply. "We've all missed her, of course, but Maliya is a Princess of Dorne and Queen in the North. Now she's insisting on putting herself in the middle of a war. I am here to offer her whatever she needs, whether it's to fight beside her or to just be her companion. She would hate to hear me say this, but I'm here to help protect her."

"Have your other sisters joined you?" Robb asked her curiously.

"Unfortunately not, though under any other circumstances they would jump at the chance to be here. Obara and Nymeria have chosen to remain behind to protect Dorne if necessary, Sarella is off having her own adventure and the other four are too young and inexperienced."

"I understand." Robb paused, wondering how best to approach the worry at the back of his mind without offending her. "While I'm sure Maliya will love to have you here, women aren't typically allowed in a war camp. Not because I think you are unskilled!" He hurried to assure her. "Maliya has told me much about her childhood and I know how competent you and your sisters are. My men know better than to attempt anything with Maliya, and I, of course, am against such behavior, but the men have long been away from their wives and passions can run high during a war."

Tyene let out a tinkling laugh when she realized what he was trying to say and even Prince Oberyn couldn't hide his grin. "I can assure you, Your Grace, that I can handle any advances your men may make." Her blue eyes twinkled at some joke that Robb didn't understand.

Prince Oberyn's grin turned into a proud smirk. "If anything, I fear for any of your men who make an unwanted advance towards my daughter."

"Right," Robb nodded, trying to hide his confusion as his mind tried to think of ways in which Tyene would protect herself. "Well, I'm sure that you and your men are weary from your long journey. I can have two tents set up for you both near mine and Maliya's and show you where your men can set up their own. Come. I'll introduce you to my bannermen along the way."

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

"Selfish, stubborn men," Lady Stark spat in a low, annoyed voice. "Together the Lannister's wouldn't stand a chance against them, but their own pride and egos are getting in the way. They're acting like children and now Baratheon will fight Baratheon."

Maliya sat astride Shadow, as she and Lady Stark made their way back to their camp. They had traveled with King Renly after Stannis Baratheon, now calling himself King had besieged Storm's End. They had met, each of them hoping to convince the other to drop their claim and swear fealty to them, but in the end, both had failed.

The letter from Lord Stark was no added to the bag of her most prized, secretive possessions. In all the days since she had received it, they had not found the intruder from the tent and Maliya had told no one of the letter, not even Lady Stark. He had said that she would know when the reveal the letter, as if there would be some sign that now was the time. Maliya hadn't recognized any such sign so for now, she kept yet another secret to herself, constantly wondering what the point of the letter was.

Maliya casually glanced over her shoulder, to make sure they weren't overheard. A fortnight ago, her and Lady Stark had sent half of their men to bring Lord Stark's remains safely back to Winterfell. What remained of their guard had come with them to Storm's End as protection. "What do you suggest we do now, my lady?" Maliya asked her in a quiet voice.

"There is no doubt in my mind that there will be a battle come the dawn," Lady Stark responded gravely. "We will have one more opportunity to make an alliance with Renly. If he should defeat Stannis, we will want him on our side against the Lannister's."

"And if he should lose?" Maliya questioned. "You heard what Stannis said. ' _Your son is no less a traitor than my brother. His day will come as well._ ' Stannis will never ally with anyone who doesn't see him as the rightful King of Westeros."

"We need to be prepared to leave in case the battle doesn't end in our favor. If Stannis should win, we shouldn't be anywhere he can find us in case his intentions are harmful to us." Lady Stark fell silent for a moment, thinking, before glancing over at her. "What do you think about what the red woman said to you?"

A shiver ran down Maliya's spine. Maliya had been in attendance at this meeting, but Stannis and Renly controlled most of the conversation and she had allowed Lady Stark to take over pleading their case. So, she was shocked when the red priestess by Stannis' side had turned to her before leaving, delivering what was either an omen or warning in her throaty, accented voice. _"Beware, Your Grace. For when I've seen you in my fires. I see you standing in the middle of a raging fire, mouth open in a silent scream. Only a lion pelt is wrapped around you, it's claws digging into your flesh as rivulets of blood stream down your body. The flames intensify and consume you at this point, and the heat of it is such that I have to end the vision. Your future intrigues me, Your Grace, and I will continue to watch you from afar. Until we meet again."_

"I'm not quite sure what to think of it," Maliya admitted honestly. "I don't know about the fire, but the lion pelt could only remind me of the Lannister's. It's unnecessary to warn me to beware of them, however. We are in the middle of a war against them, obviously they would be my enemies. To me it all seems like a load of nonsense. My destiny and my future are my own."

Lady Stark frowned, continuing to look troubled. "It would be unwise to forget what she said, I think. If there is anything that could help you avoid a certain fate, it isn't something that you should disregard."

"Of course," Maliya agreed absentmindedly. Her words had reminded her of something else that Stannis had said, something that had scared her more than anything else during that conversation. Lord Stark had risked his life sending that letter about Cersei and Jaime Lannister to Stannis and in the end, his honor and integrity had cost him his head. Robb was so much like his father that she was terrified he would follow in his footsteps. That he would do something because honor dictated that he do so and the consequences of his actions would get him killed. Before she had left she had mentioned going back to Winterfell if she wouldn't be allowed to fight.

Now it seemed a rash and naïve thing to say. Of course, she would love to be able to fight beside him, but most importantly she had to be by his side for all important and political decisions. She vowed that she would be the voice of reason if his honor endangered his life or got in the way of their goal. The most important thing was destroying the Lannister's and she was going to do whatever was necessary to accomplish that goal.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I basically spent a month and a half trying to think of another way to have an interaction with Maliya/Melisandre/Stannis/Renly and my brain was just not working. So instead of re-writing the scene, this was what I came up with. Does anybody have any thoughts about Ned Stark's letter to Maliya? I'm relatively happy with the chapter, but I'm thrilled to move on because exciting things are going to happening very soon!**

 **Please don't forget to leave a review, I love to hear your thoughts, opinions and advice! :)**

 **On a completely unrelated note, I've started a new story! It's a Draco/OC Harry Potter story called Fractured Darkness, with a main character completely unlike any other character I've ever written. So if you're a HP fan, then please go check it out, I would love to get your opinion on it!**

Boramir: Thanks for your review! You always write or suggest details that don't even cross my mind! It's perfect, because political/military tactics aren't my strengths, keep the advice coming! I will definitely keep this in mind when writing future chapters, thank you!

sooo: There's angst, sure, I'll give you that. It's a part of all my stories and in my opinion it's a part of Game of Thrones as well. But hatred? That's a little extreme, don't you think?

mattywilkss: I'm sorry you feel that way. I'll admit that in the beginning Maliya did appear to always be correct, which other readers have pointed out and I have attempted to fix. You're only on chapter five, however, so I hope you'll continue reading and your opinion will change. As far as something happy happening? It's Game of Thrones, but I do my best.

Guest 1: Haha thanks for your review, I loved your reaction! Maliya has been very adamant, stubborn and selfish when it comes to having kids. She had revenge first and foremost in her mind and kids weren't an option if she was going to continue that goal. Now that she's been married to Robb for a year and she's fallen in love with him, for the first time she's hesitating because she's beginning to see how it's affecting him. In a way, Maliya is a very selfish character. She's kept so many secrets from Robb because she's afraid about how his reaction will affect her. Hopefully this will change soon!

Anne: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you didn't think the chapter was as bad as I was worried it was going to be. I'm really excited about Maliya and Cat using this opportunity to bond. It's been a year but they haven't grown close because of everything that's happened and that's not beginning to change. I have a few different plans in mind for the whole Robb, Talisa and Maliya situation. I'm still working out the pros and cons for each, but you'll see soon enough! I hope you liked this chapters as well.

Guest 2: Oh boy, here we go. I swear, for some reason GoT readers are some of the most opinionated reviewers I've ever met. Your review started out okay, where you were telling me your opinion on why Maliya shouldn't be drinking moon tea. And I agree with you, she shouldn't be. But I disagree with the fact that no highborn women take moon tea. Not everybody acts how they're SUPPOSED to act. We know for a fact that Asha takes moon tea, she says it herself. Also Cersei took it or some other means when she became pregnant with Robert's child. Plus, it's only a been a year since Robb and Maliya have been married and even less since they've been sleeping together. Not every women gets pregnant within a couple months. That being said, it's not like Maliya's decisions won't have consequences, they will eventually come into play. As for your comments regarding Maliya's character - I completely and totally disagree, but you are entitled to your opinion. No character is perfect and Maliya certainly isn't, she's still changing and learning, which is the point of character development.

Guest 3: Thanks for your review! I haven't totally decided about Robb/Talisa but thank you for your opinion, I'm glad you like the story!

Guest 4: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter and that you appreciated seeing that other side of Maliya. Hope you liked this chapter!

Guest 5: Thanks for your review, glad you're liking the story so far!

Guest 6: Thank you! Stay tuned, it's only going to get better from here!


	20. Descent Into Madness

**Author's Note: Hello everybody! I am very happy to announce that my love and motivation for this story has returned full force. I cannot even begin to tell you how I excited I am by all the ideas that I have planned and I cannot wait for your reactions when you read it. I could not continue you to do this without your support, so I just want to say a huge 'thank you' to all my readers and reviewers out there! We're officially halfway through season 2 and we're almost at 500 reviews. You guys are amazing!**

 **This chapter is unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine.**

 **Happy Holidays, everyone! :)**

* * *

Chapter 20: Descent into Madness

 **Maliya's POV**

"Come," Lady Stark urged, putting a hand on the small of Maliya's back as she guided her away from their horses. "King Renly has agreed to meet with us before he begins to prepare for the coming battle."

"Do we have a strategy?" Maliya asked quietly as she hurried beside her good mother. "I mean, what's more important at this point? Do we need his army more or do we fight for Northern independence? Neither Renly nor Margaery want the North to secede from the Seven Kingdoms."

"Well, ideally we'd want to ally with his army while keeping our independence, but our negotiations will probably have to come to a compromise at some point." Her face looked troubled and her voice dropped as a group of soldiers jogged past. The entire camp was a bustle of activity as the men prepared for the battle. "It will just depend on who ends up making the bigger compromise."

Maliya nodded resolutely, squaring her shoulders just before they entered King Renly's tent. "Then let's make sure that it's not us."

The guards outside Renly's tent stepped aside as they approached and they entered to find him sitting behind his desk, sipping on a cup of wine. The tall blonde woman who had defeated Ser Loras was standing just behind him, her face impassive and her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "Please, sit," Renly smiled, gesturing to the chairs in front of the desk. Despite the fact that he would be fighting in a battle in just a few hours, Renly looked oddly pleased with himself. "Would either of you like some wine?"

"No, thank you," Lady Stark declined as they took their seats. She hesitated for a moment, as if she were deciding the best way to approach whatever was on her mind. "Is there nothing I can say to convince you to form an alliance with your brother instead of fighting against him? If we could combine our three armies, the Lannisters would stand no chance in defeating us."

"And when we win?" Renly asked, giving her a speculative look. "Who will sit the Iron Throne?"

"Robb and I have no wish to sit the Iron Throne," Maliya spoke up, lacing her fingers in her lap. "As I'm sure Queen Margaery has told you, when the war is over, we wish to return home to the North."

"So you'll leave Stannis and I to fight over it?"

"Your brother is the lawful heir," Lady Stark reminded him.

"While he lives," Renly added with a savage grin. "Though the crown would suit me better, wouldn't you agree? Robert was a drunken fool and Stannis… well, no one wants Stannis for their king." He sat back in his chair. "If my brother refuses to bend the knee, then he needs to be taught a lesson. The time for talk is done and now it is time for action."

Lady Stark nodded, looking disappointed. "I can see that your mind is made up. Have you thought more about our potential alliance, Your Grace?"

"I have," Renly acknowledged, raising his cup slightly as he turned to Maliya. "And I have to admit that knowing you and your husband have no interest in the Iron Throne has made this decision much easier. I see no reason why there should be any hostility between Stark and Baratheon. You may continue to call yourselves King and Queen in the North. You will have dominion over all lands north of Moat Cailin… provided you swear me an oath of fealty."

Maliya eyes narrowed infinitesimally as she hid her frown at his choice of words. Beside her, Lady Stark leaned forward intently. "What is the wording of this oath?"

"The same as eighteen years ago, when Robert and Ned won the Rebellin and took the throne. It was their friendship that held the kingdoms together after everything that the Mad King had done." Maliya started slightly upon hearing Renly casually mention her grandfather and hoped that no one noticed.

"With all due respect, Your Grace, it is not the same as eighteen years ago," Maliya pointed out, working to keep her voice pleasant and her tone patient. "Your brother was a King, but Lord Stark was only Warden of the North. What you are suggesting for Robb is an empty title. We would still be paying you taxes, we would still have to give you our men when you call and we would still technically be under your rule. That does not sound like independence to me."

For a moment, Renly's smile looked slightly fixed. To hide this, he placed his cup on the desk and stood. "And what would you suggest?"

"A partnership between two kings," Maliya proposed, her heart beginning to pound as she turned in her chair to face him. She could feel Lady Stark looking at her from the corner of her eye and she suddenly wished that she had run this idea by her earlier. "A friendship and an alliance but most importantly, an understanding. We rule the North, we create our own laws and we swear fealty to no one."

Although Maliya got the feeling that Renly wasn't keen on the idea, he kept a thoughtful look on his face as Brienne finished removing the golden armor he had worn to meet with his brother. "It sounds to me like you would be gaining a kingdom and I would be losing one. Tell me, how exactly would this benefit me?"

"Well, for one thing…" Maliya trailed off, frowning as the entrance to the tent suddenly flew open, blowing out several of the candles. She shivered slightly as a cold chill danced down her spine, an odd feeling coming over her that she couldn't quite explain. Her eyes flicked around in confusion but when she didn't see anything, she shook her head and looked back towards Renly. "The alliance between the Starks and the Baratheons would – I – " Her eyes narrowed, her head tilting to the side as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Renly's shadow, which was flickering across the floor in the candlelight, seemed to almost rise from the ground, materializing behind him as a sort of shadowy substance. She had half a second to realize that the shadow reflected in the mirror looked slightly familiar before she recognized the sword in its hands. Eyes widening, both she and Lady Stark leapt to their feet. "Look out - !" She shouted, entirely too late, as the shadow plunged the sword through Renly's back, spearing him through the heart.

"NO!" Brienne let out an anguished scream, a horrified expression on her face as she rushed forward to catch Renly as he fell to his knees. She laid him on the ground, her hands hovering above his chest, looking for some way to help him, but Maliya knew it was useless. Renly's slightly confused gaze was staring unseeingly at the top of the tent, a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth.

Meanwhile, the shadow had vanished, dissolving and dispersing into the darkest corners of the tent. For a long moment, the only sound that could be heard was Brienne's sobs. Maliya was frozen, staring down at Renly's body in disbelief. She only snapped out of her trance-like state when two guards burst into the tent at the sound of Brienne's screams, swords drawn. The guards looked from Renly's body to Brienne's form hunched over it. "You'll die for this," the bigger guard growled, raising his sword above his head and charging her.

"No, stop, she didn't do it!" Lady Stark tried to tell them, but they paid her no heed.

Even in the midst of her grief, Brienne's instincts still kicked in. In one motion, she stood and pulled her sword free in order to block the guards attack. Maliya blinked rapidly, trying to focus to break through her shock at the dark magic that she had just witnessed. Loud clashes of steel against steel rang through the tent as Brienne took on the two guards. Maliya was once again impressed with the tall woman's skills as she quickly parried the first guards blows before shoving him away from her. She turned to face the second soldier as the first fell into the tall candlestick, knocking it over. Bright orange flames began to creep their way up the wall of the tent and across the carpet. They watched as Brienne quickly defeated both guards.

Lady Stark was suddenly gripping her arm, startling her so badly she jumped. "Quickly, we need to leave! All of us!" They both looked towards Brienne who had fallen to her knees again besides Renly, sobbing once more. "Brienne, we cannot stay, they will hang you for this!"

Brienne's blue eyes flashed angry as she glared up at her. "I am _not leaving_ _him_ – "

Lady Stark's face was set. "You won't be able to avenge him if you're dead," she told her in a hard, unforgiving voice. "Reinforcements will be coming at any moment. They will not believe the truth, all they know is that their King is dead and we were the only ones with him."

"She's right," Maliya agreed, finally beginning to come back to reality. "We need to go."

"Not that way," Brienne spoke up, as Maliya headed for the entrance to the tent. She stood and sheathed her sword, no longer crying though she did nothing to wipe the tears from her face. "We'll slip out the back."

"Do not run or do anything else that will draw attention to ourselves," Lady Stark muttered under her breath before they slipped out into the night. Maliya held her breath as they casually strolled away, trying not to appear too noticeable as her eyes flickered to each of Renly's men as they passed by.

They barely made it five hundred yards before shouts began to come from Renly's tent. "The King! The King is dead!"

"Do not look back," Lady Stark hissed, grabbing Maliya's arm once more as the camp suddenly erupted into chaos. Soldiers were bursting out of their tents, grabbing their weapons and hurrying to put on their armor as they rushed around in every direction. Men were shouting for water to put out the fire in the tent, which was now completely engulfed and pulled almost every soldier's attention. "We need to meet up with our men and find our horses – "

At that point, Maliya's eyes widened and her steps faltered. _Her bag!_ She had left the bag containing her most prized possessions hidden back in her tent. She would have to go back for it, there was no way she could leave it behind for anyone to find. The poison from Tyene, the letter from Ned Stark and her egg…. they were hers and no one could know about them. She had even left her sword back in her tent because Lady Stark hadn't thought it appropriate to bring to the meeting with Stannis and Renly.

Her mind was racing. She couldn't tell Lady Stark or Brienne that she had to go back for her things because that would raise too many questions that she just couldn't answer. There was no other option – she would have to slip away unnoticed. Luckily, her opportunity came almost immediately.

"What do you mean he's dead?" Loras Tyrell roared, grabbing a guard's neck with one hand and yanking him close. "What happened? And where in the seven hells were you?"

The guard's face was white. "I – my lord, I – we're not sure – "

Maliya heard Lady Stark gasp under her breath as Loras gave a savage shout and thrust his sword through the guard. Filing away Loras' out of control reaction away for later inspection, Maliya used Lady Stark and Brienne's distraction to her advantage and silently slipped down the next row of tents. Although every instinct in her body was screaming at her to pick up her skirts and run, she forced herself to remain calm, sticking to the shadows and making every effort not to draw attention to herself.

She had to make her way back towards the center of camp in order to find her tent. None of Robb's remaining guards were around, which meant they had to still be by their horses. Once she entered her tent, she began to hurry, not liking the tone of the soldier's shouts. She took off her crown because she didn't want to draw attention to herself, added it to her bag and double checked to make sure everything was in there. Then she belted on her sword, fastened her cloak on over her dress, picked up her bag and hurried back outside.

Someone grabbed her arm as soon as she stepped out of the tent, making her gasp and whirl around with one hand shooting to the hilt of her sword. Brienne stood there, towering over her. "Gods be good, Brienne, don't scare me like that!"

Brienne's blue eyes drifted down to Maliya's sword and her expression became unreadable. "Lady Stark was worried when you disappeared and I volunteered to come find you. You shouldn't wander off on your own, Your Grace, it isn't safe."

"I had some valuable things that I couldn't leave behind," Maliya told her breezily, not wanting her to ask any further questions. "Now come on, we cannot stay here any longer. Especially you, Lady Brienne. Soon enough, the entire camp will be searching for us."

They started hurrying off in the direction that they came. "Please, just call me Brienne," the taller woman corrected in a low, uncomfortable voice. "I am no lady."

Maliya glanced up at her face, but it was half hidden in the darkness of the night. "If that is what you wish," she murmured after a moment. She looked forward again and stopped short, her hand shooting out to grab Brienne's arm. "Shit," she swore under her breath, praying that the group of guards that just passed wouldn't look their way. She watched, barely breathing as they stopped to talk to another group of guards. "We'll have to go a different way."

"But Lady Stark is at the other end of camp, Your Grace, with your Northern guards and our horses – "

"We'll meet up with them once we get out of here," Maliya answered, glancing over her shoulder as they picked up their pace. "Hurry."

They had almost made it to the edge of the camp, had _almost_ successfully escaped into the forest when three soldiers on patrol duty suddenly rounded the corner and stopped in front of them, face to face. "Hey! You! Murderer!" One of the guards cried intelligently, pointing wildly at Brienne. The guards and Brienne drew their swords at the same time.

Maliya took a step forward, her left arm raised in front of her and the other grasping the hilt of her sword. "Put your swords away," she ordered in a firm voice, drawing herself up. "This woman did not kill your king."

"Then is this your confession, _Your Grace_?" The guard sneered. "They're saying that the last ones to see the king alive are you and Lady Stark."

"Watch your tone," Brienne warned, raising her sword a bit higher. "You're speaking to a queen."

"Traitor! You were part of his Rainbow Guard," the other guard spoke up, sounding angry. "Why did you kill him?"

Brienne looked both offended and disgusted at his words. "I would never hurt him," she snapped, blue eyes flashing.

"I told you already, it wasn't her," Maliya interjected, frustration beginning to creep into her voice. They didn't have time for this - at any moment more guards could appear. Both she and Brienne were skilled fighters, but if they were outnumbered, they could either be captured or killed. "There was a dark shadow that appeared out of nowhere – "

As she was saying it out loud she realized how insane it sounded and apparently the guard thought so as well. "A shadow?" He repeated, eyebrows narrowing. "You dare make up some ridiculous lie about sorcery? Lay your weapons on the ground and make no sudden moves. The Tyrells will want a word with you."

"I'm afraid that will not be possible," Maliya answered with a heavy sigh. "We must be on our way."

"That will not be happening," the guard responded and there was a brief moment of silence in which everyone tensed and prepared for what was going to happen next.

"Stay back, Your Grace," Brienne commanded in a low voice, glancing over at her as she stepped in front of her protectively. "I'll take care of them."

Maliya's right eyebrow slowly raised and she had just opened her mouth to argue that she was perfectly capable of protecting herself when the guards lunged forward and the fight began. The first guard slashed downwards with his sword and Brienne blocked it, shoving his sword arm to the side and punching him in the face so that he staggered backwards. She turned to deal with the other guard and began to parry back and forth with him.

Maliya worriedly looked over her shoulder as the sound of the swords rang through the night. If they didn't end this quickly someone would hear them and come to investigate. This needed to end, now. Brienne finished off the second guard and was fighting the third when the first one approached her from behind, a snarl on his face as he raised his sword above his head with both hands.

Thinking quickly, Maliya dropped her bag to the floor, pulling her sword free as she moved forward to intercept him. Her arms reverberated with the strength of his blow and she had to grit her teeth. The guard's eyes widened and she used his brief moment of shock to her advantage as she brought her leg back and kicked between his widened legs as hard as she could. The guard let out a noise that sounded like a combination of a yelp and a groan, his grip on his sword loosening as he automatically hunched over in pain.

The guards' eyes were watering as Maliya easily disarmed him, knocking him on his back and plunging her sword into his neck just as Brienne finished off her opponent. Brienne's blue eyes flickered from her to the man choking on his own blood and she looked stunned. "I – thank you," she awkwardly said, realizing what could have possibly happened.

"The first thing you should know about me is that I am not some helpless queen," Maliya told her lightly, crouching down to wipe her blade on the grass. "I don't carry this sword around as a decoration, Brienne. You're not the only woman in Westeros who knows how to fight."

"I am glad to know it," Brienne said, giving her a nod. "We need to find two horses and then we need to go before others arrive. Lady Stark told me to get you to safety no matter the cost, even if that means bringing you back to King Robb myself."

"Alright." Maliya retrieved her bag and swung it over her shoulder. "I have an absolute terrible sense of direction and have no idea which way to go. After you," Maliya gestured, waving her on and pulling up the the hood of her cloak as they ran off into the night.

* * *

They had been riding hard for three days now, as fast as these less than impressive horses could go. They couldn't run nearly as far as Shadow could and Maliya hoped that he was safe with Lady Stark. During their journey, Maliya learned that Brienne of Tarth was a woman of very few words. Each day she tried to engage her in conversation, but she only managed to get a few terse words out of her.

They had hoped to meet up with Lady Stark and the other guards along the way back towards Robb's camp, but they had yet to come across them. Actually, they had met very few people along the way so far. Maliya spotted a few surviving people as they rode past the destroyed and ransacked villages. When they saw them, they hid in what remained of their homes, peering out at them with wide, frightened eyes.

"Where did you learn to fight, Brienne?" Maliya asked, looking over at her. They had slowed their horses down to a walk again in order to give them yet another break. Maliya didn't consider herself a talkative person, but the hours seemed to crawl by so slowly that she felt as if she were going mad.

"My father taught me, Your Grace."

"Did he?" Maliya's eyebrows rose in surprise. "My father was against my training for years – in fact I'm pretty sure he's still against it."

"He didn't want to train me," Brienne told her. She was staring straight ahead, but Maliya could have sworn she saw her face soften as she spoke of her father. "He wanted me to be a lady, but when I kept getting into fights and losing, he pulled me aside and said, 'If you're going to fight, you might as well do it right.'"

A small smile played on Maliya's lips. "He sounds like a good man."

"He is." She was quiet again and Maliya had resigned herself to another couple hours of silence when she actually asked a question of her own. "How did you learn to fight? You were a Princess of Dorne before you were a queen. I haven't heard of many princesses who could fight."

"My uncle taught me," Maliya answered, feeling pleased that she was reciprocating in the conversation. Brienne of Tarth was an enigma and Maliya found herself wanting to understand her. She was adamant that she wasn't a lady and yet she is the only child and heir of House Tarth. She certainly didn't look like a lady with her tall, muscular body, crooked teeth and bent nose. She dressed and acted like a soldier, spoke only when spoken to and was reluctant to open up. Maliya was nothing if not determined. "He had trained each of his daughters to fight since they were young, and I found myself wanting to learn alongside them instead of being taught by our septa." She glanced over at Brienne again. "Dorne is slightly more… relaxed in our customs. Daughters are given the same equal inheritance as sons. Views on sex and sexuality are looser and celebrated quite freely. We have paramours, bastards are publicly claimed and women are allowed to fight. Since moving north, almost everyone I meet is appalled by the fact that I can fight and I just want to say that I understand – "

"Look," Brienne suddenly interrupted, pointing up ahead. Maliya broke off, looking above the treetops to see a thin plume of black smoke rising up in the air, not too far away. "There must be trouble up ahead. We'll have to go around."

"Go around?" Maliya repeated with a frown. "But what if someone's in trouble?"

She recognized that stubborn glint in Brienne's eyes all too well. She had seen the expression on her husband's face more often than not. "Your Grace, Lady Stark trusted me to escort you back to King Robb if we should fail to meet up with her. Knowingly putting you in harms way will completely defeat that purpose."

"I appreciate your concern, but I – " She froze as a women's terrified scream pierced the air. "Someone's in danger!" Without waiting for Brienne's response, Maliya pushed her heels into her horses' side and galloped forward in the direction of the scream.

When she was still a safe distance away, she pulled it to a stop and slipped off the saddle, tying the reins to a nearby tree. She left her bag where it was but pulled her sword free, sensing danger ahead. "Your Grace," Brienne hissed in a low voice, following her as she approached through the trees. Maliya didn't answer or turn to look at her, just held up a hand, signaling her to be quiet as they crouched behind some bushes so they could see what was going on.

A very small village came into view through the trees. One of the small, decrepit huts was aflame and the small clearing was littered with broken pieces of wood and tools. Maliya's eyes trailed over the ground, where several bodies were strewn across the ground, most of them men and all of them bloody and broken.

"Mama! Mama!"

"Please, please don't hurt my daughter!" Maliya looked to the far edge of the village to see armed men dressed in black. Even without examining them for too long, Maliya could sense that these men were cruel and dangerous. Three of them had their swords out, surrounding a small group of women huddled together on their knees, cowering in fear with tears streaming down their faces. One of the younger women was trying to rise to her feet, to get to a young girl who was being held back by another man.

"Be quiet," one of the men snarled, raising his hand and backhanding the yelling woman across the face. "Stop yer crying!" Out of the corner of her eye, Maliya could see Brienne's fists clench tightly as the woman cried out in pain.

"Oi, Lorch!" One of the other men shouted, a wicked grin spread across his face. "You gunna come and pick one of these women? We deserve a reward after helping those uptight gold cloaks find that band of recruits and that royal bastard."

Maliya's body flashed hot then cold as a tall, cruel looking man with a receding hairline and a beard came around the corner of a house. He was dragging yet another crying woman by the arm. "Caught this one trying to escape," he grinned triumphantly, shaking her slightly. "I'm gunna take my prize with me. You all know what to do."

"This village was a waste of time," one of the other men complained, looking around in disgust as Lorch dragged the woman into one of the houses. "There's nothing of value here and the women aren't even decent looking."

"I don't know, Weaver. This one's not so bad," a shorter, bald man said, running a finger down one of the younger woman's cheek and making her shrink back in fear.

 _Lorch._ Fucking Amory Lorchwas right in front of her, not even one hundred yards away. Maliya's vision began turn red she was staring at the house where he disappeared so hard. She forgot everything – she forgot about Robb and the rest of the Starks, she forgot that she was Queen in the North – all she knew was she was Rhaenys and this man killed a girl that he thought was her and helped with the downfall of her family. There was no way she could let him go without making him pay for what he'd done.

"We need to help them," Maliya muttered under her breath to Brienne without glancing over at her.

Maliya could practically feel the disapproval radiating off the taller woman. "Your Grace, I told Lady Catelyn– "

 _Seven hells, this woman takes her word seriously._ Maliya's head snapped around to face her, brown eyes flashing as her anger flared. "We cannot just walk away and let these woman be raped and then killed! I cannot have that on my conscience knowing that I could have done something. There's only six men, three for you and three for me. We have the element of surprise and thus we have the upper hand."

Maliya wasn't quite sure what her face looked like – her body was practically vibrating with fury and her overwhelming need for revenge – but Brienne stared at her for a long time. "And if I say no?" She asked after a moment, sounding like she knew what the answer was going to be.

She glanced over to see all the men comparing each of the women and dividing them amongst themselves. Maliya gritted her teeth. "I will go by myself. I can't just _sit here_ and do nothing, we have to act now! Would you be able to live with yourself knowing that these women and children will be raped and killed?" She asked, hoping that the added guilt will sway Brienne's decision.

She gave her a look as if she knew exactly what Maliya was doing. "Alright, but you have to do exactly as I say. Now, listen closely."

Speaking quickly, Brienne relayed her plan to Maliya and they split up. Still crouched low behind the foliage and the trees, Maliya jogged around the right side of the village coming up around the row of small houses on that side. She could see Brienne creeping around the other side, both of them focused on the four men surrounding the group of terrified women huddled together. The fifth man was still holding the little girl and the last man was Lorch, who was three houses down doing only the Stranger knew what to that poor woman. They needed to move fast.

Maliya tensed, waiting, and as soon as she saw Brienne's signal she leapt forward into action. She didn't know if it was because of all the adrenaline in her body or because she was so close to getting part of the revenge that she had been hungering for for over a decade, but everything for Maliya seemed to move in slow motion. She could feel her heart pumping in her chest and could feel all her muscles tensing as she quickly and silently sprinted the few yards across the clearing.

Maliya reached the men just seconds before Brienne attacked from the other side. The men must have noticed the women's shocked expressions as they caught sight of her, because they were in the process of turning around when Maliya and Brienne fell on them. Maliya easily disarmed the first man, ducking his wild punch and slashing her sword across his throat.

The second man, much bigger and larger than the first, let out out an enraged roar and lifted his own sword and initiated the first attack. Maliya had to backtrack several steps, unprepared for the violent onslaught as she attempted to block his advances. A few of the women screamed in fear as Brienne and the man she was fighting with got close to them, breaking Maliya's concentration as her eyes flickered over. She realized too late that she broke one of Uncle Oberyn's most important rules – _never lose focus._ She managed to throw up her sword to clash against his at the last minute, but didn't see his flying elbow until it slammed into the side of her head. She stumbled sideways as pain exploded in her temple and her vision tilted, causing her to crash to the ground, off-balance. _Seven hells._

The tall man loomed over her, a cruel, triumphant grin on his face as he raised his sword. Just as it was about to swing down, Brienne let out a loud yell and Maliya's eyes widened as her sword suddenly sprouted from his chest. When she pulled it back out, the man finger's scrabbled at the blood pouring down the wound as he let out a pained gurgle and collapsed on the ground.

"Thanks," Maliya gasped, blinking rapidly to clear her vision as she grabbed Brienne's offered hand and allowed her to pull her to her feet.

"Now we're even," Brienne answered as Maliya quickly took stock of their surroundings, ignoring the throbbing in her head. Four of the men were lying on the ground either dead or dying and the women were still kneeling on the floor in terror.

"Go, quickly!" Maliya urged them hurriedly, wanting them to leave before they are put in even more harm's way. Almost all of the women ran off at once, except for a younger woman with dark brown hair.

"My daughter, please, he's taking my daughter!" She pleaded, pointing over their shoulders. Maliya and Brienne turned to see the other man with one hand clasped over the little girl's mouth, the other wrapped around her waist as he pulled her away. Tears were streaming down the girl's face, but she couldn't struggle because of the dagger pressed against her throat.

At the same time, the sound of struggling and a scream came from the house where Lorch disappeared.

"You get the girl and I'll help the other woman!" Maliya ordered quickly, tightening her grip on her sword as she ran off again without waiting for Brienne's reponse.

Her revenge was so close she could practically taste it. She threw open the door to the house so hard that it bounced off the wall behind it. "Get off her," Maliya growled, disgust on her face and fire practically spitting from her eyes. Lorch was straddling the poor woman, holding her hands above her head, the top of her dress undone so her breasts were nearly spilling out.

Lorch's head snapped up from the woman's neck when the door opened. "What in the seven hells – " he spat, eyes widening slightly when he saw the bloody sword in her hand. He had been so caught up in what he was doing that he must not have heard the commotion outside.

He lunged off to the side for his sword as Maliya started across the room towards him, face set with determination. He rolled onto his back, sword in front of him just in time to block Maliya's strike. They barely noticed as the woman escaped out of the house as soon as she was able to, holding her dress together. Lorch kicked out at Maliya, catching her in the thigh and knocking her back several steps.

Maliya attacked once more as soon as she caught her balance but Lorch had already used that time to spring to his feet and he was ready for her. They exchanged a flurry of blows and parries. Maliya had never experienced such laser focus before. She examined Lorch's fighting style and was able to quickly realize that his movements were crude and he relied heavily on his strength. She was obviously more skilled with a blade and that sent a surge of confidence through her.

 _Keep your movements as fluid as water in a stream. Always keep every one of your senses open. Wait for your opening – as soon as you see one, punish them for their mistake._

All of her Uncle's teachings flowed through her mind as she fought Lorch. Her first opportunity came relatively quickly. Lorch made an attempt to chop off her head and Maliya capitalized. She ducked under his wild swing, pivoting around his body as she sliced across his thigh.

"One," Maliya announced as Lorch grunted, his leg buckling slightly. A snarl on his face, Lorch kept swinging at her and Maliya kept dancing around his blade, stepping in close to attack before moving away. "Two." A cut across his shoulder. "Three." She stabbed him in the side. "Four." She aimed for his face but he jerked to the side and she only cut across his cheek.

Their swords met once more and Lorch grabbed her wrist in anger and frustration. "Why the fuck are you counting, you stupid cunt?" He roared, spewing spittle in her face.

"I'm not surprised you don't recognize me," Maliya hissed through narrowed eyes. "All of Westeros thinks that I'm dead and you're the one who killed me." She continued on when he looked confused, pushing her sword back against his in her anger. "Rhaenys Targaryen. Does the name sound familiar? Rumor has it, you stabbed and cut that three year old girl more than fifty times, until she was nearly unrecognizable - "

"She deserved it!" He barked, shoving her back several steps, his wrist still incased in his free hand. "That little bitch kicked me when I pulled her out from her father's bed and she wouldn't stop screaming!"

Her anger only continued to grow until she felt like it was going to consume her alive. "That little girl was not Rhaenys Targaryen," she informed him, her mind automatically picturing the room and the bed as he spoke. For the first time since the incident, a new memory surfaced in her mind's eye, one of a bald man kneeling in front of her, dressed in a brown cloak. She immediately pushed it away and forced herself to focus, promising herself that she could ponder who the man was at length once Lorch was lying dead at her feet. "That poor girl just looked like me so that someone could help me escape. _I_ am Rhaenys Targaryen," she whispered to him, relishing the expression of shock on his face. "And I am going to kill you for helping to destroy my family."

With that said, Maliya brought up her right leg and kicked him hard in the chest. His grip on her wrist loosened and she pulled free. Lorch staggered back and slammed into one of the walls of the house, his arms out at his sides as he tried to regain his balance. Gritting her teeth, Maliya swiftly brought her sword up over her head and brought it down over his sword arm, severing it just below the elbow. Lorch screamed, cradling what remained of his arm to his chest as his hand, which still held his sword, fell to the floor.

Without missing beat, Maliya crouched to the floor and spun, sweeping the legs out from under Lorch and causing him to crash onto his back. She was on him in a moment, easily overpowering him in his weak, pained state. She dropped her bloody sword on the ground and reached under her dress for the dagger attached to the thigh holster.

"Five," she whispered, stabbing him in the chest. "Six." Lorch was gasping in pain, fear in his eyes. Maliya leaned over him, her dagger pressed to her throat. "Who gave you the order to kill me?" She demanded in a threatening voice. "Tell me! Who was it?"

Lorch's throat gurgled as he struggled to speak, making several attempts to form words. His voice was so faint that Maliya had to lean even closer to hear him. Even though she had a hard time understanding what he was saying, she did catch one word very clearly. "…. _Lannister_."

She snapped, pulling back her arm once more. Her emotions were swirling violently inside of her as everything that she tried so hard to bury deep inside her came to the surface. Her fury at Tywin Lannister for ordering the assassination of her family, her fury at her father for kidnapping or running away with that Stark girl and causing this entire mess, her overwhelming sadness that she would never see her parents again, the injustice of her brother's murder - all of her feelings about her lost family came into play. Instead of shying away from the pain as she usually did, she accepted it, allowed it to fuel her unstoppable rage.

She lost herself at this moment, dimly aware that the light had long since faded from Lorch's eyes and yet still she continued to count.

"Your Grace!" A horrified voice shouted and a hand grasped her right arm, stopping her movements just as she was about to bring the dagger down again. With a snarl of rage, Maliya reacted on instinct, her other hand coming up and punching her attacker in the face. Her head snapped to the side but she didn't release her grip, just caught Maliya's left hand in hers as well. "He's dead, Your Grace, you've killed him! It's over."

Maliya blinked at her words, her rage fading and she realized that it was Brienne who she had hit. Brienne let go of her when she saw the recognition in her eyes and helped Maliya stagger to her feet. Suddenly feeling exhausted, Maliya looked down at Lorch's body. Both triumph and disgust battled within her when she saw what she had done. His chest was a mangled mess, blood streaming from the dozens of wounds and pooling across the floor. She could see his insides and his bones sticking out and even though she wanted to look away, she found that she couldn't. Blood was still dripping from the dagger in her hand and out of the corner of her eye she could see it splattered on her arms and up the front of her dress. The darkest parts of herself had made itself known once again and Maliya felt slightly sick.

 _The Targaryen Madness,_ Lord Tyrion's voice whispered in her ear. _It's said that the gods flip a coin everytime a Targaryen is born to determine if he or she will have the madness._

It was one of her deepest, darkest fears come true – she had lost herself to the rage and had gone mad for the briefest of moments.

She could feel Brienne silently staring at her and Maliya averted her gaze, not wanting to see the horror, judgement, or accusation in the other woman's eyes. She could feel her left hand shaking slightly and she clenched it into a fist, clearing her throat. "Come on, we should be going. We need to meet up with Lady Stark."

"Your Grace – "

"I can't – " Maliya began to snap before she paused and took a deep breath, not wanting to lose control and get angry again. "I don't want to talk about it right now, Brienne, okay? I just… I can't."

Brienne was silent for another long moment before nodding and such a strong wave of relief swept through Maliya that she swayed slightly on her feet. "Here, Your Grace," Brienne murmured, hesitantly stepping over to her. She helped her take off her soiled cloak before unclasping her own and draping it across her shoulders. The cloak nearly engulfed her but Maliya accepted it gratefully, clutching it to her body to hide the sight of the blood. "I'll clean your blades," Brienne said. She picked up Maliya's sword from the ground and gently pried the dagger out of her stiff fingers. Maliya realized she probably didn't want her to have a weapon in her current state, but did found she didn't care. "Why don't you go find our horses and bring them here?"

Maliya nodded and stepped outside, pausing a moment to inhale a deep breath of fresh air. The women and the girl were nowhere in sight and Maliya hoped that they would be safe. She gingerly stepped over the bodies littered across the floor and headed to the small patch of trees and bushes where their horses were tied.

She untied their reins after making sure their things were still there and headed back to Brienne. Maliya wordlessly accepted her newly cleaned weapons, slipping her sword into the sheath and her dagger back under her dress.

They both swung up onto their horses and continued on their way, Brienne leading and Maliya following silently behind her. Although she appeared calm on the outside, her head was pounding and she couldn't help wondering if every time she grew angry it was helping her descened further and further into the madness.

* * *

"Your Grace." Maliya looked up at the sound of Brienne's voice to see that the blond woman was standing beside her own horse, looking up at her. "We've finally caught up to Lady Stark."

Maliya looked around in mild surprise to see that there were half a dozen tents set up next to a small stream. She recognized several of the Stark's guards beginning to set up tent and light a small fire. The tight knot in her chest loosened when she saw Shadow grazing with the other horses and she had to remember to thank Lady Stark for taking him with her.

"Oh, Maliya," Lady Stark cried in relief, hurrying over with Ser Wendel. "Oh, we're so glad that you're safe, we were so worried!"

Ser Wendel looked even more relieved if that was possible. His large shoulders practically sagged as a smile lit his face. "It is good to see you, Your Grace. Our King would have strung us up by our ankles if anything bad had happened to you."

Maliya couldn't help the small smile that played on the edges of her lips when she saw the obvious concern for her in their eyes. "I'm happy to see the both of you as well," she murmured. "You needn't have worried, Brienne did a wonderful job of keeping me safe."

"I'll fix you something to eat," Ser Wendel told her, grinning at her once more before striding off.

Feeling incredibly stiff, Maliya swung done off the horse. Lady Stark gasped as the movement caused Brienne's cloak to slide off her shoulders slightly, her bloody dress coming into plain view for a moment. Maliya's eyes snapped up to Lady Stark's alarmed blue ones and she quickly stepped closer to her, dropping her voice so they wouldn't be overhead. "I'm alright," Maliya whispered her quickly. "Let's talk in your tent." Looking worried once more, Lady Stark nodded quickly and Maliya untied her bag to bring along with her. "Come on Brienne, you deserve an explanation as well."

Lady Stark wasted no time. As soon as they were in the tent and away from listening ears, she rounded on Maliya and began to spit out one question after another. "What happened? Why are you covered in blood? Are you sure you're alright? Did you run into trouble on the way back?"

"I'm alright, my lady," Maliya reassured her again, trying to put on a bright expression to prove her point as she sat in an empty seat, placing her bag down beside her. "The blood is not mine. Yesterday we came across a small village that was under attack. Most of the villagers were already dead, but the men who attacked them had a small group of women hostage as well as a little girl. They were about to rape and kill them, my lady, I couldn't just walk away and let them be harmed."

Lady Stark looked both exasperated and frustrated. "What did you do, Maliya?" She asked in a hard voice.

Maliya inwardly winced at her tone, immediately knowing that Lady Stark was not going to agree with her actions. Lifting her chin slightly, she continued. "I convinced Brienne to help me free them. Those men won't be harming anyone else."

If Lady Stark wasn't such a lady, Maliya was almost positive her jaw would have dropped. "You attacked them?" She asked in an incredulous voice, her face turning pale. "Of all the ridiculous, irresponsible – I understand that you are skilled with a blade, Maliya, but those were obviously dangerous men and there were only two of you! You are not some unattached warrior that can ride throughout Westeros freeing people in danger. Not only is Westeros in the middle of a war, but you are Queen in the North. Your life is no longer your own, it belongs to your people."

Maliya's eyes narrowed. "How could I live with myself knowing that those women were killed when I could have done something to help them?"

"Your impulsive and your reckless, Maliya, and one of these days your actions could have serious consequences," Lady Stark lectured as if she were one of her children.

"I'm afraid I can't apologize for my actions, my lady," Maliya admitted, crossing her arms around her stomach. "Amory Lorch was one of those men." Brienne looked bewildered, but Lady Stark frowned as if she had heard the name somewhere before. "He's the man who killed my cousin, Rhaenys Targaryen. He stabbed that poor girl dozens of times and I couldn't just let him hurt someone else. We fought and I won. It got a little messy, but just before he died, I asked him who gave the order to hurt my Aunt Elia and her children. He said the name, 'Lannister'."

Lady Stark's expression was grim. "The Lannisters have a lot to answer for," she murmured in a grave voice. "It was always suspected that Tywin Lannister gave the order, but nobody had any proof. And now, we still don't. Listen, Maliya, I know how outspoken Lord Oberyn is about his desire for revenge, but you cannot be so reckless with your life." She walked over to Maliya and crouched down in front of her, taking her hands in hers as she looked up at her with a pleading expression. "The Lannisters deserve what is coming to them and I completely understand and share your need for revenge against them. But you need to be smart about your actions. One simple mistake and you could die. Promise me that the next time something like this happens you won't put your life at such risk."

"I promise," Maliya responded soberly. She glanced up at Brienne, who was watching them both and hadn't said a word this entire time. "I'm sorry that I wasn't completely honest with you. I really wanted to rescue those women, but I was afraid that if I told you about Lorch you wouldn't help me."

Brienne reddened, looking slightly flustered as they both turned to look at her. "It's alright, I – I understand," she said, shifting uncomfortably. "I…. I'll go check the horses."

Lady Stark turned back to her as Brienne left. "Come on," she said in a gentle voice, helping Maliya to her feet. "Let's get you cleaned up. We're only half of a days ride away from Robb's camp."

Maliya's throat burned as Lady Stark took care of her as only a mother could. Having never had a mother figure in her life, this was a completely different experience for her. Combine that with her experience of the past day and her emotions were as fragile as the glass gardens at Winterfell. Swallowing her tears, Maliya gratefully leaned on Lady Stark both physically and emotionally. Instead of focusing on everything that happened, she instead brought up images of Robb and chose to focus on that instead.

Only one more day and she would finally be home.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Well, there you have it! Maliya finally got part of the revenge that she has been working for, but at what cost? What do you guys think? Was Maliya wrong to convince Brienne to help her? Should she have surpassed the village altogether because she is a Queen and she shouldn't put her life at risk unnecessarily? Although I have to admit, I quite liked writing Brienne and Maliya fighting together, both of them are bad-ass women!**

 **Next chapter: A whole bunch of reunions, Maliya makes an incredibly important decision, a glimpse of Winterfell, and an attack in the night.**

 **Don't forget to review :)**

Marvelmyra: Thank you for your reviews! I appreciate your help!

Guest 1: I'm glad you liked the chapter, thanks for leaving a review! Don't worry, the egg and the letter will explain itself soon. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.

Guest 2: Thanks for reviewing, here's the new chapter!

Howland Reed: You, my friend, are very clever!

Guest 3: Cat would certainly have an interesting reaction to Ned Stark's letter! What do you think she would do if she found out he wrote it to Maliya instead of her? The reunions are coming next chapter. Thanks for your review!

Charlie: I'm glad you're liking the story so far :) There's much more to come!


	21. Reunions

**Author's Note: You guys, I think this is some sort of updating record for me and I can't help but feel very proud of myself. Don't get used to it though! I had a few days off over the holidays and spent many, many hours churning this out for you guys. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed my story! I was really blown away by all the thoughtful responses, thank you for all your support. And welcome to all my new readers and reviewers!**

 **So, this chapter got away from me a bit. I pushed off half a dozen scenes until the next chapter and it still turned out really long. Hope you guys enjoy it! Don't forget to review :)**

 **Oh and Happy New Year!**

* * *

Chapter 21: Reunions

Maliya woke the next morning feeling more emotionally stable than yesterday, though she still felt a bone deep exhaustion in her body. She and Lady Stark hadn't talked much last night after Maliya had explained what had happened, but her presence and her comforting silence had seemed to soothe her a bit. She pushed the bed sheets off her and swung her legs over the side. Her head swam and pounded as she sat up and she winced, bringing a hand to her temple.

Cursing the bastard that had managed to hit her, Maliya dressed for the day, choosing a simple riding dress and braiding her hair in a straight plait down her back. The mood in the camp was somber as Maliya exited her tent and broke her fast with Lady Stark and Brienne.

She overheard some of the guards as she ate. Rumors were already reaching them from the Baratheon camp. They were blaming Brienne for King Renly's death, though both Maliya and Lady Stark had been present at the time as well. Unfortunately, the rumors also said that most of Renly's army went over to join Stannis, all except the Tyrell's who retreated farther south instead. All in all, it wasn't good news for Robb's army or his cause. Not only did they fail to make an alliance, but now one of their enemies has grown larger.

She couldn't help worrying over Stannis's harsh words against Robb. It was a worry that seemed to settle permanently in her stomach, eating away at her insides and stealing her appetite. A wave of longing swept over her and Maliya found that she wanted nothing more than to be in her husband's arms once more.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Lady Stark asked, her concerned blue eyes searching her face when Maliya turned towards her. Brienne had just volunteered to get the horses ready for their departure. She pressed a hand to Maliya's forehead and cupped her cheek. "Were you able to get any sleep?"

"I managed to get a few hours sleep," Maliya assured her as she withdrew her hand. "Though I tossed and turned most of the night."

Lady Stark nodded as if this was what she expected to hear. "You've just been through a traumatic experience, even though it was your decision to get involved in the first place." Maliya frowned. Had she been through a traumatic experience? Killing Lorch had been something that she had been wanting ever since she was old enough to understand what happened to her and her family. She supposed killing him hadn't been the traumatic part. What was traumatizing was the darkness that had taken over her while she was committing the act. It appeared to have affected her more than even she had realized. "Robb will not be pleased when he hears about this, you know."

"Oh, I know," Maliya answered, inwardly wincing as she just imagined his reaction.

"It's best to just tell him," Lady Stark said, patting her hand reassuringly. "Ned and I were always of the belief that honesty is the best policy in a marriage." Maliya's entire body tensed at her good mother's words. All of the lies and secrets that she was currently keeping from her husband swirled in the forefront of her mind, bring with it the sharp, bitter taste of guilt. She swallowed harshly and could almost feel the guilt settling deep in her stomach, adding to the fist sized pit. "Every healthy relationship is built on a foundation of honesty and trust."

"So you or Lord Stark have never kept a secret from each other your whole marrirage?" Maliya asked her, turning to face her completely and hoping that she didn't hear her voice waver. Half a second too late she realized that her question was entirely inappropriate and intrusive.

Lady Stark shook her head and opened her mouth to answer but paused, a forgotten pain coming to light in her blue eyes as a conflicted expression crossed her face. "Well…. Not every marriage is perfect, unfortunately." A moment later her expression cleared and her pain disappeared. "It's time to go," Lady Stark murmured, the relief evident in her voice. "Are you ready?"

Maliya nodded and set aside her still full plate, before standing to retrieve her bag from her tent so the guards could take it down. She wondered at what Lady Stark was thinking. Lord and Lady Stark seemed to have a strong, healthy marriage – what secrets could there possible have been – She falterered midstep, her eyes widening. Of course! She didn't know how she didn't see it before. Lord Stark had never told anybody the name of the woman he had laid with while he was at war. The identity of Jon Snow's mother was one of the best kept secrets in all of Westeros.

A horrible thought struck her. What Maliya was doing to Robb was several times worse than what Lord Stark did to Jon Snow and Lady Stark. What originally started out as a secret about her real identity snowballed into her secret about the Moon Tea, the dragon egg, and now the letter from Lord Stark. Her fear and her guilt were growing until she felt as if it would consume her alive.

She jumped as Lady Stark joined her once more while she was tying her bag on Shadow's saddle. "Thank you for taking Shadow with you when you left the Baratheon's camp," she said gratefully, patting Shadow's neck as she tried to calm her racing heart. "My cousin gifted him to me before I left Dorne and I'm very fond of him."

"Of course," Lady Stark smiled, before swinging herself up into the saddle of her own horse, Brienne and the other guards doing the same. "Now, come. Let's go back to Robb."

* * *

Their small, somber group rode straight for Oxcross, choosing to have a small lunch in the saddles rather than stopping and wasting another hour or two of daylight. Luckily they didn't run into any other obstacles during their journey. When the sentries to Robb's camp finally rode out to meet them, the sun had already set and it was well after supper time.

"Your Grace, my lady," one of the guards greeted, bowing his head. "It is good to see you. The King will be relieved to see that you both are safe and well."

"Thank you," Lady Stark responded graciously. "Where is my son?"

"At the command tent, my lady."

Lady Stark turned to face the guards that had journeyed with them. "Thank you for everything that you all have done for us in keeping us safe. Now, go enjoy a hot meal and a good night sleep."

"Hear, hear!" Ser Wendel Manderly and the other guards cheered before riding off with tired smiles.

Maliya perked up as she and Brienne followed Lady Stark through the camp, excitement beginning to trickle through her at the thought of finally seeing Robb again. She had left feeling bitter and disappointed, but at the moment none of it seemed to matter. The soldiers grinned and greeted them as they rode past, bowing their heads in respect and she was amazed at how different this camp felt than Renly's.

Her eyes were scanning faces as they neared the command tent, looking for Robb as her heart began to beat faster in anticipation. She was looking for him so intently that when she saw an out of place familiar face, she did a double take, her mouth flopping open. "Uncle Oberyn?" Her eyes widened at the blonde woman standing next to him. " _Tyene_?"

She jumped down from Shadow's back, a wide, disbelieving grin spreading across her face. She hurried over to them as fast as her years of princess training would allow before ditching etiquette altogether and throwing her arms around her uncle's neck. Her uncle laughed at her eagerness and Maliya screwed her eyes shut as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, lifting her several inches off the ground. She breathed in the scent of him and happy tears pricked the corners of her eyes. He smelled of her childhood and of Dorne.

"Ah, my sweet niece, I cannot tell you how good it is to see you," he told her as she pulled away.

"I cannot believe that you both are here!" She laughed, feeling happier and lighter than she had in ages. She turned to Tyene, pulling her in for a tight hug and holding on for a moment longer than usual. "I have missed you both so much, more than you could ever imagine."

Tyene's blue eyes took in the tears swimming in Maliya's gaze and she grinned, one of her eyebrows rising. "Why, uncle, I do believe that marriage and a crown has made our Maliya soft."

Maliya laughed again, blinking away the tears and pulling them both in for yet another hug. "Oh, stop it. What are you two doing here?" She asked, one hand on her uncle's arm and the other encased tightly in Tyene's hand. "Did father send you?"

"He did," her uncle confirmed, his smile fading slightly. "We should discuss all that somewhere more private, but just know that he sends his love and hopes that you are well."

"Everyone's written you letters," Tyene added, and Maliya was smiling so wide that her cheeks were

beginning to hurt. "Arianne's letter is more of a novel really, Trystane spent days cooped up in his bedchambers as he wrote his and even Obara wrote you a little something. I have them all in my tent when you have a spare moment or two to read them."

"I would absolutely love to," Maliya responded, that lump returning to her throat. A noise from behind her captured her attention and she glanced over her shoulder to see Lady Stark and Brienne dismounting from their horses. She waved them over to introduce them. "My lady, you remember my Uncle Oberyn. This is my cousin, Tyene. Tyene, this is my good-mother Lady Catelyn Stark." Uncle Oberyn kissed the back of Lady Stark's hand and Tyene smiled, giving her a small curtsy. "Uncle Oberyn, Tyene, I would also like you to meet Brienne of Tarth." Tyene's eyes widened as her gaze trailed up Brienne's tall body and when she opened her mouth to make some sarcastic comment, Maliya interjected quickly, giving Tyene a pointed look. "She saved my life the other day."

Uncle Oberyn shook Brienne's hand. "Well then, Lady Brienne, it seems that we owe you a great debt for saving our Maliya." Maliya wanted to roll her eyes at his comment, but couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from lifting. She was nine and ten years old, a wife and a Queen and yet her uncle still looked out for her as if she were no taller than his knee. It made caused a warmth to spread through her, starting in her chest and moving throughout her body.

"I gave my word to Lady Catelyn that I would bring Her Grace back to the Stark's camp safely," Brienne responded seriously, looking slightly uncomfortable with Uncle Oberyn's words. "And besides…" she said, glancing over at Maliya and nodding at her. "She saved my life first."

"It sounds like an interesting tale," her uncle commented with raised eyebrows, looking between the two of them.

He added something else, but Maliya was distracted by a deep voice saying her name from behind her. "Maliya?" It was a voice that she would recognize anywhere, one that made her heart leap in her chest and an automatic smile appear on her face.

She turned, her skirts swirling around her ankles and there he was. Auburn curls, icy blue eyes, broad shoulders and warm smile – her eyes eagerly drank him in, feeling like it had been ages since she'd last seen him. "Robb," she murmured softly. Everything and everyone faded into the background as Robb strode toward her purposefully. She met him halfway, his arms snaking around her waist as she launched herself at him, her own arms wrapping around his neck.

"Gods, I've missed you," he whispered shakily, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Standing there, encased in his arms with his body pressed against hers… she felt whole again, as if she had left a piece of her behind with him when she had left. She felt safe, as if nothing could hurt her while she was here with him and it was then that she realized… home wasn't a place. It was the feeling inside of you when you're surrounded by the people that you love and that matter most to you. For Maliya, wherever Robb was, that was her home.

Maliya pulled back slightly so she could look up into his face, her brown eyes light and teasing. "Well if you stop sending me away, then maybe you wouldn't have to miss me."

"You might have a point there," he agreed, surprising her completely. "Now stop talking and kiss me, wife."

"If you insist," she sighed happily, standing on her tiptoes and capturing his lips with her own. Almost immediately, one of Robb's hands pressed against the small of her back, eliminating even the smallest of spaces. The other hand rose up to fist around her braid, holding her in place as he angled his head and deepened the kiss. She relished the feel of his warm lips against hers, the hunger and impatience she could feel in his kiss and the tension in his body. She wanted nothing more than to pull him into their tent and rip all his clothes off, but she belatedly remembered that they had an audience. She couldn't help but chuckle at his soft noise of disappointment when she pulled away.

"Soon," she whispered in his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I promise."

Robb sighed as his eyes fluttered open and looked at her. Heat swooped through her lower belly at the desire shining from his eyes, which were a deeper blue than usual. "Not soon enough," he murmured in a husky voice, unable to resist kissing her one last time before looking up.

"Well," Tyene grinned widely, as Robb and Maliya approached, one of his arms firmly wrapped around her waist. "That was quite a performance. I have to say, I've never been more proud of you, 'Liya."

"Ty," Maliya scolded half-heartedly, though she couldn't help laughing lightly. She had missed Tyene's crass way of speaking too much to really be mad at her on behalf of her new family who was unused to such behavior. "You'll have to excuse my cousin, it seems this Northern air is affecting her head."

"It's quite alright," Lady Stark answered with a polite smile. "Now, it is getting late. I don't know about anyone else, but my very bones ache from riding so hard for so long. Robb, we should debrief you on everything that's happened."

"Of course," Robb said. "Mother, I've had a tent set up for you already for when you returned, but Lady…." He trailed off, looking at Brienne.

"Brienne, Your Grace," she answered, bowing slightly in a sign of respect. "Just Brienne."

"Brienne," he smiled. "You are very welcome here. I'll have some of my men set up a tent for you as well."

"I'll accompany her and show her around a bit," Tyene volunteered, already knowing that she wouldn't be invited to the debrief meeting. She turned to face Maliya. "We'll have a chance to talk on the morrow, right?"

"Of course," Maliya promised, pulling her in for another quick hug. "I'm so glad that you are here."

Tyene smiled at her before joining Brienne. "So, how tall are you exactly?" She heard Tyene ask Brienne just before they walked out of earshot. Maliya and her uncle shared an amused look, shaking their heads in exasperation.

"Shall we?" Robb asked, gesturing to the command tent. "Prince Oberyn, you are more than welcome join us, of course."

"Thank you," her uncle said. "I am most interested in hearing this tale."

They all filed into the command tent. Maliya and Lady Stark sat at the table opposite each other, while Robb stood at the head of the table and Uncle Oberyn lounged on the bench on the other side. "We've heard several rumors about what happened, but I'd like to hear a firsthand account from you both."

"Renly Baratheon was murdered," Lady Stark told them in a grave voice, cutting right to the chase. "But the manner in which it happened…." She trailed off, shaking her head. "Nobody would have believed the truth, so we had to get out of there real fast."

"It was dark magic," Maliya added, looking from Robb to her uncle. "There was this… this shadow that rose up from the ground and stabbed Renly in the back. It appeared out of nowhere and then just vanished into thin air."

"A shadow?" Robb repeated, a doubtful frown on his face.

"A shadow with Stannis Baratheon's face," Lady Stark told them.

"Of course!" Maliya gasped, snapping her fingers. "That's why it looked so familiar, I don't know why I didn't put it together before."

"So you think that Stannis killed his own brother?" Robb questioned incredulously, looking as if he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that two brothers would want to harm each other. "With dark magic?"

Uncle Oberyn had a slightly intrigued look on his face as he drummed his fingers against the table. "Magic may be extremely rare in these parts, but it's not unheard of across the Narrow Sea. There are warlocks in Qarth that possess great powers, and there are rumors of sorcerers, necromancers and the like in the lands by the Jade Sea and Asshai by the Shadow."

Maliya and Lady Stark shared a look of dawning realization. "The Red Priestess," they both exclaimed at the same time.

"There was this woman with Stannis when he and Renly met to discuss terms," Maliya elaborated at their look of confusion. "She said that she serves the Lord of Light and that 'the night was dark and full of terrors.' She must have somehow created that shadow to kill Renly!"

Lady Stark leaned forward. "Renly had finally agreed to form an alliance with us and we were in the middle of negotiations when the shadow appeared. Needless to say, the alliance fell through. We had to ride out of there like the Stranger himself was chasing us and now we're hearing that most of Renly's force has joined Stannis' cause."

Robb sighed, wiping a weary hand across his face. "Well, this isn't ideal, but it sounds like there were unexpected and unforeseen circumstances. There's nothing to be done about it now."

"There's more," Lady Stark spoke up again, giving Maliya a pointed look and a raised eyebrow.

Maliya put her hands in her lap, playing nervously with her fingers. "Brienne and I got separated from the others as we left the camp and we headed back here on our own. We… met a little trouble on the way."

Robb frowned at her and she could feel Uncle Oberyn's piercing gaze on the side of her face. "What sort of trouble?"

Maliya took a steadying breath. "We came across a small village that was being attacked by a group of men. When we got there, one of the houses were on fire and all of the village men had already been killed. The men who attacked them had rounded up the women and were going to rape and kill them. Brienne and I saved them and set them free." She turned to look at her uncle, a strange tone in her voice. "It turns out that one of those men was Amory Lorch. He's dead, Uncle Oberyn. I killed the man who murdered my cousin Rhaenys."

Burning triumph flared in her uncle's eyes and there was a moment of silence as they took the opportunity to savor the sweet taste of revenge. The look on his face showed that there was more that he wanted to say but couldn't in present company.

The moment was broken by Robb, who couldn't stay silent any longer. "How many men were there?" He asked heatedly, bracing his hands against the table as he leaned forward. "There were only two of you against dangerous men who already showed that they have no problem killing. How could you be so reckless?"

"I think I shall retire for the night," Lady Stark broke in quickly, obviously wanting to leave before it turned into an argument. She murmured a good night to Maliya and her uncle, and patted Robb on the shoulder before leaving the tent.

"I should probably go too," her uncle said, rising from his seat and coming to stand behind Maliya. "But there is something I must say before I leave, Young Wolf. Tywin Lannister and those dogs of his murdered my sister and her children and caused my family irreparable pain. There has never been any justice for their actions because there has never been any evidence. While I know it was a risk for Maliya, I can't be sorry that she did it. We are that much closer to the justice that we are deserved for the past six and ten years and I have to say that I would have done the same thing."

"And now there is something that I must say," Robb said, drawing himself up to his full height and looking every inch of the King in the North. Her eyes flickered apprehensively between her husband and her uncle. "I appreciate the fact that you are Maliya's uncle and that you love her. Believe me when I say that I can understand first hand your need for revenge against the Lannisters. I value your advice and experience as a fighter and a battle commander, but I want to make one thing very clear from the start. I am in charge here. Maliya is my wife, now, and a Stark. There are certain conversations and decisions that shall remain between the two of us."

Maliya waited with baited breath, her body tensed as if ready to spring up in front of her husband in case her uncle lost his temper. She was sure that he could count on one hand the number of times that a man stood up to him, unwithering under the strength of the Red Viper's intimidating gaze. She jumped when her uncle moved, but it was only to clap Robb on the shoulder with a chuckle. "Spoken like a true king. I appreciate a strong backbone in the family. Good night, Robb, good night my beautiful niece." He pressed a kiss to Maliya's temple. "I'll see you on the morrow."

"Good night, uncle," Maliya murmured as he left, and she heard Robb let out a breath that he had apparently been holding. Her eyes reluctantly met his impassive gaze once more and felt a wave of weariness wash over her. "Robb, your lady mother has more than likely given me the same lecture you are about to give me right now. While I'm glad that Lorch is dead and those women were saved, I acted impulsively and I realize now that our plan could have gone horrible wrong. I'm sorry that I put myself in danger, I wasn't thinking properly."

Robb's face looked surprised as she acknowledged her mistake, before softening and coming around the table, crouching in front of her and reaching for her hands. His blue eyes searched her face for a moment before he spoke. "I know that you are a skilled fighter, Maliya, but I want you to promise me that you won't be so reckless in the future. I can't lose you, Princess," he murmured, using his old nickname for her and making her melt into a puddle on the bench seat. "I'm not sure I would survive it."

Maliya swallowed at his words, a stab of guilt shooting through her that she struggled to push away. It was on the tip of her tongue to promise him anything he wanted at that moment, but she hesitated, her mind racing. If she hadn't been reckless a few days ago, not only would all those women would have died, which would be morally wrong, but Lorch would have walked away free once more. What was more important to her? Her safety or revenge for her family?

She scooted closer to Robb, reaching out with one hand to brush an auburn curl away from his forehead. "I promise that I will be more careful in the future," she told him softly, changing the wording of her promise slightly. "You won't lose me Robb. I don't plan on going anywhere." She placed her hands on either side of his face and bent over and kissed him lightly. "Now take me to bed, husband. That is an order from your Queen."

"It would be my pleasure, Your Grace," Robb grinned wolfishly, pressing his lips to hers once more before standing swiftly, lacing his fingers with hers. Maliya giggled as she had to practically run to keep up with Robb's long, impatient strides as he dragged her through the camp to their tent.

They had barely made it inside before Robb attacked her, his hands moving to pull up her skirts and his lips hungrily devouring hers. Her hands shot out to grip his biceps as she staggered back at his eagerness. "Robb," she muttered, pulling away, gasping as he just moved his lips to kiss and nip at her neck. "Robb, slow down." She placed her hands on either side of his face again and made him look up at her. "Slow down, love," she whispered breathlessly, feeling slightly shaky. "We have all night long, I want to savor this for as long as possible."

"You're right," Robb panted, closing his eyes briefly as he tried to gain control of himself. "I'm sorry. I've just missed you so much."

Robb bent his head towards her again and this time when their lips met, it was a slow, sensual kiss. A kiss that made her toes curl and caused a steady build-up of desire to flood through her body before pooling in her lower belly. His fingers pulled the ribbon free from her hair before running through it, undoing the braid so his hand could fist in it and take control of the kiss. Their tongues met in an intoxicating dance and Maliya completely lost herself in his kiss. Their passion began to build and their breathing began to grow shallow.

Their movements were slow and unhurried as Maliya unhooked Robb's cloak and the belt holding his sword, allowing it to drop to the floor in a heap. Her fingers unlaced the leather jerkin he wore, helping him remove each layer of clothing until he was standing in just his trousers and boots, his chest bare to her. Her hands moved down his neck, her fingers tracing patterns in his soft chest hair before moving down lower, dancing over the muscles in his abs before slipping around his back.

A shiver ran down his spine at the feel of her fingers and he let out a shaky breath, before his hands moved to the laces of her own dress. She slipped her arms out of the sleeves and stepped out of the dress, never breaking the kiss. Robb's hands roamed over her now bare arms and shoulders, pulling her flush against him once more. Even though they were lined up chest to chest and hips to hips, somehow it still wasn't close enough.

A strange feeling came over her as she felt his heart beating a frantic rhythm against his chest. She kissed him harder, her nails digging into skin as she tried to convey her love for him through her movements. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her neck and Maliya whimpered as Robb's hot tongue followed it's path back up, nipping gently at her earlobe.

She was overwhelmed with a fiery heat, the warmth of his body against hers, the scent and taste of him only making her want more. Her hand slipped down his chest, almost of its own accord, dipping into his trousers to find him already hard and ready for her. Robb's lips faltered over her own, a low groan slipping into her mouth as her fingers danced over him. His hand shot out to grip her wrist, stilling her movements. "I'm not sure I can handle any teasing tonight," he panted as she removed her hand. His eyes were wild, deep pools of blue and the sight of his mussed hair and flushed cheeks made her breath catch in her throat. "I want you, Maliya. I want you, I need you, and Gods, I love you."

"Ao emō ñuha, Robb, you have me," she murmured, hearing his breath hitch when she spoke Valyrian. That always served to drive his arousal even higher, driving him insane. She couldn't help her small smile, feeling so incredibly happy at this moment. Making sure their gazes were locked, she stepped out from his embrace, toeing her boots off and moving backwards towards the bed. Slowly, torturously, she inched the hem of her slip higher up her thighs, his eyes hungrily watching her every move. The dagger strapped to her thigh came into view and she grinned at the sound that came from his throat at the sight of it.

She took it off the potential danger hazard and tossed it to the side, her brown eyes on his again as she lifted her slip over her head in one fluid motion, revealing herself to him completely. She lowered herself onto the bed, crawling backwards and resting against the pillows, a smile on her face as she crooked a finger at him, beckoning him over.

Robb sprang into action, hopping slightly as he struggled to pull off his boots and yank off his breeches. She laughed as he leapt on the bed, making her bounce slightly in his haste to kiss her once more. He swallowed her giggles, turning them into a moan as his hands trailed up her sides, thumbs brushing against her breasts. He settled between her open thighs as he hovered above her, his mouth moving from her mouth to her neck, settling above her pulse and sucking gently. Maliya couldn't contain her loud gasp as heat zinged through her body, her nails reflexively digging to his back.

He let out a sharp breath at the combination of pleasure and pain, his hips thrusting forward and rubbing against her. "Robb," she groaned impatiently, feeling as if she were going to spontaneously combust if he didn't do something soon. "Please, please, please," she chanted breathlessly.

She stopped mid-chant as Robb willingly obliged her, his hips moving forward and finally joining them as one. "Oh," she gasped, back arching slightly as Robb paused, giving her a moment to adjust. It had been so long since they had been together like this that she felt as if he was stretching her slightly.

That strange feeling came over her again as he hovered above her, supporting himself on his elbows. He was pressing small, feather like kisses wherever he could reach – her mouth, her cheeks, her neck, her eyelids and she felt her heart swell. Her hands trailed down his sides, gripping his hips and bringing them forward, gasping again as he moved inside her. He took up a slow, steady rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before snapping his hips forward once more.

She took a moment to observe him and commit this moment to memory before she was completely overwhelmed and could not think clearly. She could feel the strength of the muscles in his arms and shoulders. She watched his eyebrows furrow in concentration, her eyes trailing over the sweaty curls plastered to his forehead. His burning blue eyes nearly rolled back into his head as she hooked her legs around his back, taking him even deeper and meeting him thrust for thrust.

Breath hitching, Maliya wrapped one arm around Robb's neck, pulling him as close to her as possible and he did not resist. She found the weight of him, the feeling of him surrounding her completely both safe and comforting. Her other arm clasped the side of his face, guiding his lips back to hers and she moaned deep in her throat. He tasted of passion, desire and need and Maliya thought she could kiss him all day, especially when he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, biting gently before soothing it with his tongue.

He must have felt her fluttering around him, the coil inside her spiraling her higher and higher, because his pace increased, their kiss growing sloppy. "Shit," she whimpered against his lips, her eyes screwing tightly shut. Her nails dug into his shoulders, the other hand twisting in the sheets as she desperately tried to find something to anchor herself.

She could tell Robb was close because he could barely contain the low moans spilling from his mouth as both his breath and his pace grew erratic. Her eyes snapped open just before she flew over the edge, her gaze locking on his. "I love you," she murmured frantically, eyes widening, before her hips snapped up one final time, mouth dropping open in a silent scream as her body exploded. Robb followed immediately after her at the feel of her tightening around him, burying his face in her neck as he groaned her name, his body shuddering at the force of his release.

Maliya panted, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, eyes wide as her body trembled, pleasurable aftershocks running through her limbs. One of her hands lightly rubbed up and down Robb's back as his chest heaved, struggling to get his breath back under control.

She felt his head turn, his lips pressing against her throat, trailing lazy kisses up over her jaw, shakily raising himself on his arms to press a light kiss to her lips, sighing in contentment. "I love you too," he smiled, slipping out of her and rolling off her onto his back. His arm threaded under and around her neck, bringing her with him so that her head rested against his chest, a leg threaded between the two of his. She couldn't help but smile as she felt his fingers threading gently through her hair, her arm winding around his waist as the sweat dried on their bodies. She had missed this. She had missed him.

She must have dozed for a moment or two because she came to a little while later, shivering slightly as the cool night air hit her now dry skin. She was exhausted, her body still pleasantly heavy, but she found that she couldn't drift back to sleep. Sighing in annoyance, Maliya peeked up at Robb's peaceful, slumbering face, looking so much like the boy she had married a year ago without the worries of being the King in the North.

Carefully, she slipped out of his embrace, freezing for a moment as he grumbled, rolling over onto his stomach and grabbing her pillow instead. Smiling slightly at the sight of his attractive, bare ass, she gently pulled the sheets over his body before sliding off the bed and wrapping Robb's robe around her. She glanced around the tent, wondering briefly where Grey Wind was as she took in the sight of the clothes strewn about the ground.

Deciding to leave it for the moment, Maliya walked opposite the bed to where one of the guards had brought her bag after she had arrived. She dug past the dresses, undergarments and gloves to where her most prized possessions were hidden and pulled out the flask with the Moon Tea. Sighing, she opened it and raised it to her lips to drink it when she froze. _Don't you want a child of your own?_ Shaking her head to dispel the voice and muttering angrily to herself, she forced herself to take a swallow. Almost immediately, however, she spat it out, wiping her mouth against her sleeve as a feeling of panic and disgust washed over her.

Closing the flask, she hurriedly shoved it back in her bag so it was out of sight before collapsing back on the ground, stunned as a realization swept over her. She didn't want to drink the Moon Tea.

An image appeared in her mind, unbidden. A baby boy looking up at her with Robb's dazzling blue eyes, and a little girl with long, curly auburn hair. She pictured Robb snuggling their child close, teaching their son or daughter to ride a horse or swing a sword. A warmth spread through her chest at the images and she faltered slightly as she realized there was a smile playing around the corner of her lips.

Somewhere along her journey over the past year, her constant desire for revenge diminished slightly as she fell in love with the husband that she was determined to hate and now… well, she still wasn't completely sure if she wanted children, but she did know that she wanted the _option_ to have them. Somewhere along the line, the thought of becoming a mother didn't seem like the worst thing in the world. If she had a man like Robb Stark by her side, then surely even she could be a mother.

And so, at that moment, Maliya decided to stop taking the Moon Tea, resolving to let nature take its course. In this instance at least, she was going to allow the gods to decide if or when she should have a child.

* * *

 **Theon's POV**

Everything was going to shit. Theon's mine raced, trying to recall exactly when things had started to spiral out of control. Was it when his father gave most of the ships and the forces to his Uncle Victarion and his sister Asha? Was it when his Uncle Aeron urged him to offer Benfred Tallharts Wild Hares to the Drowned Gods? Or was it his decision to take Winterfell in the first place?

The world seemed to come to a standstill – it was almost as if everything that was happening wasn't really happening to him. He could feel every drop of rain as it poured from the sky. He could feel the mud squishing beneath his boots and the weighted stares of both his own men and the people of Winterfell alike.

 _I should have put a sword in your belly instead of your hand, Theon Turncloak._ Ser Rodrik had growled, struggling from where Black Lorren and one of his other men held him captive. His sharp words were accompanied by a glob of spit that Theon angrily swiped of his face. Theon's first instinct was to throw him in the dungeons but Dagmar Cleftjaw was whispering in his ear that his men would never respect him if he let this go.

He clenched his jaw, the rain dripping off his hair and down his face as he glanced away from Ser Rodrik. For some reason when he looked into the furious eyes of the old man, he couldn't help but think of the first wooden sword that he had had made for him, all the times he coached him through the footwork that went along with swordfighting, or the pretend sparring tournaments that he had with Robb and Jon Snow.

"When he spits on you, he spits on all of us. He spits on the Drowned God," Dagmar grunted in a low voice. "They'll never respect you while he lives. He must die."

At his words, Theon straightened his shoulders, his resolve strengthing. He was reminded of who he really was and what he was doing. His name was Prince Theon Greyjoy. He was the heir to the Iron Islands and Lord of Winterfell and he was going to prove to his father that he should be trusted above his sister. "Ser Rodrik, I sentence you to death!" He shouted, loud enough for the entire courtyard to hear.

He didn't need Ser Rodrik reminding him that he was raised here in Winterfell by Ned Stark. He didn't need the reminder that these were his people or that he grew up alongside Robb and the rest of the Stark children. Ned Stark was dead and he didn't treat Theon anything like he treated his own sons. Theon was no more than a hostage, his brothers killed by Stark men and held in Winterfell to prevent any more uprisings from his father.

"No!" Theon heard Bran shout from where he was seated off to the side. "You said no harm would come to them if I yielded!"

Maester Luwin hurried forward and began speaking to him in a low, urgent voice. Theon stared down at him as he pleaded his case, pushing aside the images of the maester wiping a wet cloth across his forehead when he was two and ten and had come down with a fever or the time the time the old man bandaged his wrist when he broke it after a bad fall off his horse. Annoyed with himself, he cut the maester off mid-sentence. "You'll address me as Prince Theon or you'll be next," he snapped, pushing him aside and gesturing Black Lorren to bring Ser Rodrik over to the chopping block.

"No!" He heard Bran wail, and he glanced over to see tears streaming down his face as Maester Luwin attempted to comfort him. Osha, the wildling woman who had just attempted to pledge her loyalty to him, was hugging a terrified Rickon, murmuring comforting words in his ear. More images appeared; it seemed his mind was determined to torture him with useless memories. A curious little Bran who used to follow after him several years after he was brought to Winterfell, or watching little Rickon as he grew and learned how to walk and talk. "Please Theon, I beg you, don't do this!" Bran pleaded loudly, his voice cracking.

Theon tuned him out and turned to where Dagmar stood over a kneeling Ser Rodrik, his sword at the ready. "He who passes the sentence should swing the sword," Ser Rodrik growled, staring up at Theon with hatred in his eyes.

Curling his lip contemptuously, Theon yanked his sword free, heart pounding and his stomach swirling unpleasantly. "Any last words, old man?"

"Gods help you, Theon Turncloak. Now you are truly lost." Bran's yelling increased as Theon raised his sword and Ser Rodrik glanced over at him. "Hush, now child. I'm off to see your father."

With a savage grunt, Theon brought the sword down on Ser Rodrik's exposed neck with all his strength. Blood spurted from the old mans mouth and Theon was appalled to see that his cut didn't go all the way through. Whenever Ned Stark beheaded a man, he did it with one swing. Filled with panic and anger, Theon brought the sword down again, failing to block out the sounds of Bran's screams, Rickon's sobs and horrified gasps and whispers of the rest of the town folk. Warm blood spattered across his face and his flinched, but with a third hack and a kick, the head finally separated from the neck and Ser Rodrik was dead.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

Sighing happily, Maliya snuggled deeper under the furs as she felt a warm breath against her face and neck. She giggled sleepily when she felt a cold nose against her jaw. "Robb, stop that! Your nose is cold and – augh!" She spluttered, eyes snapping open as a hot wet tongue licked up the length of her face. "Grey Wind!" She laughed, sitting up and pushing his face away when he licked her again. "Where have you been, you big hairy direwolf?" She asked, scratching behind his ears and pressing a kiss to his nose.

Grey flopped down next to her, taking up more than half the bed with his huge size, and placed his head in her lap with a contented sigh. "Well, I missed you too, Grey," she smiled, fixing her pillows so she could lay back. Her hands absentmindly scratched the top of his head. "You know, you're getting almost too big to snuggle with, boy." She glanced over at Robb's side of the bed, glancing around the tent and finding it empty. "Where is that Robb of ours, hmm?"

"Your Grace?" A deep voice called from the entrance to her tent.

"Yes?" Maliya called, glancing down at the nightgown that she had slipped on last night before she went to bed and making sure it properly covered her. Wincing, she stretched and reached over Grey Wind to the end of her bed and threw her bedrobe on over her shoulders and covering her chest. "What is it?"

"There's a Tyene Sand that wishes to speak with you."

Maliya relaxed. Tyene had seen her in worse than this. "You may send her in."

"Thank you," Maliya heard Tyene say to the guard sweetly. She could almost picture her cousin's sultry grin and the hand that she placed upon the guard's arm. "I am so glad that there's someone like you to protect my cousin from harm." She heard the guard stuttering and stammering as the tent flapped opened and Tyene walked in wearing a beautiful, flowing white dress, with her blonde hair down and loose. As always she looked sweet and innocent and Maliya knew it was because Tyene could get away with so much mischief when she was underestimated as nothing more than a simple woman. "I apologize Maliya, but I feel as if I've been waiting for you – "

She froze at the sight of Grey Wind lying across her lap, her blue eyes widening in shock. "It's alright, Ty, he won't hurt you."

Tyene looked uneasy and unconvinced. "I'll still keep my distance, thanks," she responded. "I heard some of the men say that he killed a dozen men in the last battle alone."

Maliya gave Grey Wind a proud pat and a grin. "I'm sure he did." She rolled her eyes slightly as Tyene stayed right where she was and didn't budge an inch. "I suppose he can be slightly intimidating if you haven't seen him grow from the pup he was to the big monster he is now. Alright, Grey, run along, now," Maliya urged, gently pushing him off her lap. "It's been over a year since I've seen Tyene and we need to talk." Grey Wind got up with a grumbling sigh and jumped off the bed, slowly stalking past a very still Tyene and out of the tent. "Well, come on!" She told Tyene impatiently, patting the bed next to her.

Tyene walked over to her, looking at the bed for a moment before choosing to perch gingerly on the edge of it next to Maliya. She explained at the look of confusion on Maliya's face. "I don't know what sort of debauchery went on in this bed last night and I don't want to know – " She paused, thinking, before a devilish grin crossed her face. "Actually, yes, I do want to know. Tell me everything. What's the Young Wolf like under the furs? They say the Northmen are wild and your husband has a sort of rugged handsomeness about him. Plus, you're just waking now and with the state of your hair it must have been a very interesting night."

Maliya's face flushed red as memories of last night surfaced in her mind. She couldn't help the smile that crossed her face, though, as she gave Tyene a gentle shove. "Oh, be quiet," she chuckled, her hand lifting to her long hair as she attempted to comb through the snarls with her fingers. "What happens in this bed is between my husband and I. Though I will say that Robb is wonderful and every time is absolutely incredible." Maliya looked over at Tyene and smacked her arm again.

"Ow! What was that for?" Tyene cried indignantly.

"I know you, Tyene Sand!" Maliya scolded with a halfhearted glare. "Stop picturing my husband naked!"

"Well, can you blame me?" She grumbled, rubbing her arm. "Your husband is a handsome, foreign king and it actually seems like he's a decent man."

"He is," Maliya smiled, sinking further into her pillows as a faraway look entered her eye. "We had a rough start, but Robb is a kind man who genuinely cares for all his men and the smallfolk, he's considerate of my feelings and he's a good king. The most admirable part is that he loves his family and would do absolutely anything for them."

"You love him," Tyene observed quietly, sounding mildly surprised.

"I do," she admitted, her voice warm. "Somehow, the entire Stark family has found a place in my heart. But enough about me, how are you?" Maliya asked, looking at Tyene with an imploring look on her face. "How is everyone else back in Dorne?"

"We're all fine," Tyene reassured her, waving a hand. "Everyone misses you, of course, it's not quite the same. Trystane spent the first couple weeks after you left moping about the palace, but Obara and Nymeria began teaching him how to fight and that seemed to perk all of them up. Arianne has been kept busy running Sunspear, but she talks about you all the time."

"Running Sunspear?" Maliya repeated in confusion, sitting up straighter at the news. "Why? Where's my father?"

"Uncle Doran…" Tyene trailed off, biting her lip. "He's… well, he's moved to the Water Gardens, Maliya. He left a few weeks after you did and he hasn't been back to Sunspear since."

"Is he alright?" Alarm was running through her, making her eyes widen and her heart pound in her chest. "What happened, Tyene, why did he move to the Water Gardens?"

"He missed you, I think," Tyene told her gently, reaching for her hand. "The palace wasn't the same without you, it lacked a certain light. It was more than that, though. A month or two after you left, his gout worsened and he had to start walking with a stick. It continued to get worse and more oft than not, now, he uses a specially designed chair with wheels that Areo pushes him around in. Father used to visit him twice a fortnight and says that he spends a lot of his time by the pools watching the children."

"He's in pain?" Maliya asked in a high voice, sounding as if she were in pain herself. "How much pain? Are there any other complications that go along with the gout? Oh, seven hells," she swore, throwing off the furs and jumping out of the bed. "I need to go to him – "

"Maliya, don't be ridiculous!" Tyene said loudly, grabbing her hands and forcing her to meet her eyes. "Your father would not want you to go rushing off to him because he's in a little bit of pain. You're needed here, after all."

"Oh, I just can't stand the thought of him alone and in pain so far away," Maliya confided, the fight leaving her as she collapsed down on the bed and putting her head on her hands. "He and Arianne don't always see eye to eye and Trystane is too young to travel back and forth from Sunspear to the Water Gardens."

"Uncle Doran will be fine, Maliya," Tyene reassured her, patting her back comfortingly. "He's got the Martell blood in him, after all. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken."

"You're right," Maliya sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I just worry. It's been a year since I've seen him and with his health problems, sometimes I fear… nevermind." She shook her head, determined not to think such dark thoughts. "Let's talk of something happier."

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

"How is Maliya?" His mother asked in a concerned voice as they strolled through the camp, her arm looped through his. "She didn't seem quite like herself during our journey back."

Robb sighed, trying not to let a frown cross his face as his men greeted him when they walked past. "I'm not sure. Last night we… didn't talk much," he said, feeling his cheeks heat as he realized what he just admitted to his mother. "I had business to attend to this morning and have been busy ever since. I suppose we haven't really had a chance to talk yet." He glanced down at his mother as a sudden thought crossed his mind. "Are you worried about her?"

Her mother looked offended. "Maliya is my good-daughter, of course I'm worried about her!" She caught the look on Robb's face and continued on. "Admittedly, we weren't close when you first married her… then everything with Bran happened and I rode south shortly after that. But I think our relationship has strengthened on our recent journey."

"I'm pleased to hear that mother," Robb smiled, putting a hand on top of hers. "You are two of the most important women in my life. I really – "

"Apologies, Your Grace, my lady," a soft voice said, causing the two of them to turn. Roose Bolton was standing behind them, a grave look on his face. "There's a letter for you from Winterfell. It's waiting for you in the command tent."

"From Bran and Rickon?" Lady Stark questioned, perking up. She pulled her hand free from Robb's arm and lifted her skirts. "It's been so long since we've heard from them," she said as she rushed off.

"Lord Bolton would you find someone to send for my wife?" Robb asked, feeling unsettled by the man's pale, grey eyes.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Robb strode off after his mother, entering the tent just as she was plucking the rolled up parchment from the table and opening it. He watched her eyes scan the letter quickly, her face paling and a horrified expression crossing her face. "What?" Robb asked urgently, walking over to her. "What is it?" Mouth parted, eyes wide, she wordlessly handed the letter over to him. A pit of dread settled in his stomach as Robb took it from her and began to read. The words were barely legible, but he recognized the writing as Maester Luwin's written in a hasty scrawl. He had to read the sentences over and over again before the understanding sunk in.

"There's news from Winterfell?" He heard Maliya ask in a bright voice as she swept into the tent, wearing a long sleeved, green colored dress. Robb looked up at her and though he didn't know what expression was on his face, she knew instantly that something was wrong. "Robb?" She questioned, walking over to him, glancing between him and his mother. "What's happened?"

"Winterfell has been taken," Robb told her in a shocked, empty voice, bracing a hand on the table as he slowly sank into a seat. "By Theon."

Maliya blinked at him, beginning to shake her head in disbelief. "But.. but you sent Theon to Pyke to get his father's ships… why would he take Winterfell?"

"I told you," his mother spat in a shaky voice, beginning to pace back and forth. He could feel the anger and anxiety emanating off her in waves, and it slammed into him, leaving him off-balance. "I told you never to trust a Greyjoy!"

"This cannot be true," Robb implored, looking at Roose Bolton who entered the tent behind Maliya. "There must be some mistake."

"We've had ravens from White Harbor, Barrowton and the Dreadfort," Bolton informed him, his face impassive and his voice emotionless. "They all tell the same tale. The Greyjoy boy is calling himself a Prince and has taken Winterfell in the name of his father, Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Islands."

"But why?" Robb asked, hating that he sounded like a confused, lost boy. He felt Maliya place a hand on his shoulder as she stood behind him and tried to take some comfort in her touch. "Why would Theon – "

"Because the Greyjoys are treasonous whores," Bolton shrugged.

"What about Bran?" His mother asked desperately. "And Rickon?"

"We've heard nothing of them. But Rodrik Cassel is dead."

Robb abruptly stood, the pit of dread transforming into a pit of anger. "I must go north at once. What kind of King would I be if I cannot even hold my own castle? How can my men follow me if I can't even – "

Oddly enough, it was Roose Bolton who offered words of advice and comfort. "It's because you are king that you don't have to go north. Theon holds Winterfell with a skeleton crew. With your permission, I will send word to my bastard at the Dreadfort. He can raise a few hundred men and retake the castle before the new moon. We've come too far, Your Grace, we have the Lannisters on the run. If you go all the way north now, you'll lose what you've gained."

Robb gave him a single nod, trying not to convey the feeling that he was losing control. "Tell him that Bran and Rickon's safety is paramount. Tell him that I want Theon Greyjoy back to me alive," he growled, blue eyes flashing. So many emotions were swirling inside him. Anger at Theon, guilt at himself for causing this mess, fear for his brothers and a strong urge to do something to help. "I want to look him in the eye and ask him why. And then I'll take his head myself."

Bolton bowed slightly. "I'll write the letter at once, Your Grace."

"This is all my fault," Robb whispered once he had left. His throat burned as he looked up at his mother. "If I hadn't have sent Theon to his father, none of this would have happened."

"I was the one who said it was a good idea," Maliya added, a hand on her stomach, looking sick at the thought. "I should have been there," she realized, look up at them both with wide, horrified eyes. "I left Bran and Rickon in Winterfell by themselves, alone and unprotected! If I had been there with them, maybe I could have done something to stop this."

"It is useless to place any blame," Lady Stark told them, moving closer and putting a hand on each of their shoulders. "This is no one's fault but Theon Greyjoys. We have to pray that Bran and Rickon are alright," his mother continued fiercely. "Lord Bolton's bastard will take Winterfell back and the boys will be safe. There's nothing for us to do but pray."

* * *

 **Theon's POV**

With one hand braced against the wall next to the window, Theon looked out into the night, surveying Winterfell from Lord Stark's old bedchambers. Those bloody direwolves were still howling from where they had been trapped in the Godswood, adding to the throbbing pain already in his head. He hadn't slept properly in days and he had tried everything – drinking wine before heading to bed or losing himself in the always eager and willing Kyra – but nothing seemed to work.

His mind seemed determined to torture him. Theon raised the cup of wine to his lips and took a long swallow as he couldn't help but remember the nightmares that had been plaguing him ever since he took Winterfell. It always took place in the Great Hall, looking just as it did when King Robert came to visit, though the music had a haunting quality to it.

King Robert sat at the head of the table, laughing jovially as his guts spilled over the table. Lord Stark sat beside him, his neck dripping blood as he held his severed head in his arms. Familiar corpses lined the rest of the table. Jory Cassel and the rest of the soldiers who rode south, Ser Rodrik, Benfred Tallhart and even the wilding that he had killed while saving Bran. There were others as well. A pale, beautiful woman with a crown of blue roses and a bloody white gown, a burned man and another with a noose around his neck that he somehow knew to be Rickard, Brandon and Lyanna Stark.

It was always at this point where the doors opened, blowing out the remainder of the candles with a gust of cold wind. Robb strode in, his eyes dead and empty. Grey Wind stalked in beside him and both of them were dripping from half a hundred bloody wounds.

Grimacing, Theon downed the rest of his wine and walked across the room to pour himself his third… no possibly fourth cup. He desperately wished that if he drank enough, it would erase the guilt and uncertainty that he felt and make him forget the judgement and hatred that he saw in the eyes of everyone in this castle. Most of it, however, was directed at him from Bran. Rickon was just scared, he was too young to really understand what was going on. But Bran…. the betrayal in his eyes every time he looked at Theon seemed to cut straight through him. He couldn't help but be reminded that he had taken these boys hostage just as he had once been taken all those years ago.

A knock sounded at the door, sending a rush of annoyance through him and darkening his mood further. "What is it?" He snapped, turning towards the door. The room spun slightly and he had to put a hand on the table to steady himself. He must have had more wine than he thought.

The door opened and the men he had stationed outside his door walked in, a hand on the wildling woman's shoulder. "She said she wanted to talk to you, my prince," the guard grunted.

"I'm here to prove that I owe my allegiance to you," the wildling told him in her low voice.

Theon was in no mood for this tonight. "Why should I trust you?" He asked irritably, drinking more wine. "All wildlings are liars and savages with no loyalty to anything or anyone."

"I am no liar. Everything I've done I did so I could stay alive." The wildling, Osha was her name if Theon's blurry mind could recall correctly, just tilted her head to the side as she looked at him. "I owe no loyalty to the Starks – they took me prisoner and sent me to work in the kitchens. Let me serve _you_ , my lord."

He finished his cup and put it on the table a little harder than necessary in his annoyance. "I'm a prince now. You'd do well to – "

"Let me serve you, my prince," she corrected immediately, undettered.

"And how, exactly, do you propose to do that?"

Osha wrenched herself free from the guard's grip, throwing him a disgusted glare before taking a step closer to Theon. "We know things, the free people," she murmured suggestively, playing with the ties on the front of her ragged dress. "Savage things."

Theon noticed the hint of a promise in her eyes and felt mildly intrigued. Not too long ago he had thought the woman worthy of a good fuck. "Wait outside," Theon commanded the man without looking at him. He left without a word. "I always wondered what you had on under there."

"It comes at a price," Osha warned him, though he watched her fingers continue to slowly unlace her dress.

"I'm not killing you," he reminded her in a drawl. "That's your price."

"I already had that. I want my freedom."

Maybe this was the distraction that Theon had been looking for. He moved closer to her, taking a finger and bringing it down the rest of the laces, loosening them so her dress slipped off her shoulders. She caught the dress before it fell to her feet, but her breasts sprang free and Theon was pleasantly surprised. "Alright, you can have your freedom," Theon conceded. " _If_ you serve me well."

Osha pressed against him seductively, one hand cupping the back of his neck to pull his head down to hers and kiss him. Her lips moved against his eagerly, and her hands didn't stay in one place for long. They went up to run through his hair, one wrapping an arm around his neck and the other hand trailing down his chest, helping him out of his tunic before dipping into his breeches.

She froze, pulling back and looking up at him, her brows slightly furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Theon snapped, forcibly removing her hand and lacing himself back up again as embarrassment and irritation flooded through him. "Too much wine." Truth was, he's had much more wine than he had tonight and still been able to perform. For the first time in his life, he was in no mood for a good fuck. His mind just wouldn't allow him to enjoy it. "What are you doing here anyway? More oft than not I see you and that half wit with those Stark boys. What are you up to?"

"Nothing, my prince, I've told you before I owe no allegiance to – "

Feeling incredibly suspicious, Theon grabbed her and patted her down, rummaging in her dress until he found a small knife hidden in her pocket. Osha wrenched free of him with a snarl, quickly lacing her dress back up as Theon held the knife in the air triumphantly. "What were you planning to do, wildling? Kill me and escape into the night with the Stark boys?"

Osha glared at him fiercely but didn't deny it. He watched her eyes flicker around the room, looking for a way to escape. "Those boys are innocents," she hissed, shifting on her feet, glancing over her shoulder to the doors. "They don't deserve to have their home taken by someone they once thought of as a brother or to watch the people they care about be killed." He wondered if she could see the pain and doubt that he felt. "The little lord says that his brother will send men to rescue them – "

"My sister is at Deepwood Motte. I've already sent word for her to send more men."

"Then war will be brought to the gates of Winterfell. I was just trying to keep the little princes safe," she snapped defensively, looking like she was preparing herself to fight. "I won't allow any harm to come to them."

A wave of weariness washed over Theon. He was so tired of this. Tired of feeling like he was being split in two different directions, tired of being told that he should owe his allegiance to the Starks who raised him while feeling like he had to prove himself to the father that created him. Tired of trying to forget that he watched both Bran and Rickon grow for the past ten years or that Winterfell hadn't been his reluctant home.

 _Theon Turncloak._ Seven hells, how he hated that name. Was that what he was going to be remembered as for the rest of his life?

Theon fingered the edge of the knife, turning away from Osha and moving towards the window once more. "Just go," Theon told her impulsively, making a split second decision and not wanting to think too far into the possible consequences.

He could almost feel Osha's confusion. "You're just going to let me walk free and – "

"You're free to go," Theon reiterated, speaking quickly now before he changed his mind. "I don't want to know what you do or where you go, just get out of my sight." He knew that the way he phrased his words could effectively be interpreted as permission for the wilding to continue on with her plan of escaping with the Stark boys. There was no movement behind him, but after a moment, he heard the door open and close behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe now, that terrible feeling inside of him would ease up a little. Maybe now, he wouldn't be taking those boys down with him.

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

 _He trotted back out of the forest, the taste of his meal still fresh in his mouth and his belly full and sated. His keen eyes swept in front of him as he weaved through the small cloth buildings. The men recoiled away from him as he suddenly out of the darkness and he could smell the sharp tang of their fear. Other smells assaulted him from every direction – the coppery scent of blood and the acrid smell of rotting flesh, and the ever present stench of men._

 _As he neared the place where his man and woman slept, his pace slowed. Something was wrong. The two metal men who were usually standing outside the cloth building were missing and there was a strange, salty smell in the air. Hackles raising and his lips curling back to reveal his fangs, he slowly stalked forward._

 _He nudged the cloth aside with his nose and even through the darkness he could see the tall cloaked man standing over the bed, with something raised in the air. A furious snarl ripped from his throat, followed by a piercing scream as he took one bounding leap and lunged with his mouth wide._

Robb suddenly gasped awake, sitting upright as he registered that Maliya was on her knees next to him, her nails digging into his arms, her eyes wide with shock. Robb scrambled out of bed, acting on instinct alone as he dived for his sword. "Grey Wind!" Maliya cried, and he heard rather than saw Grey Wind attack the intruder.

The man shouted in fear and raised his dagger but with his large size, Grey Wind had already easily knocked the man to the ground, his teeth closing around the man's throat and ripping it out in a spray of blood. He was already dead by the time Robb pulled his sword free and made his way around the bed.

"Who in the seven hells was that?" Maliya demanded, looking shaken. Grey Wind was eerily calm now that his job was done. Blood still dripped from his muzzle as he leaped on the bed and laid down in front of Maliya protectively. She wound her fingers through the fur on his neck, an action that Robb was certain she didn't consciously think about.

"I don't know," Robb admitted, placing the sword on the bed and sitting next to her. "I don't recognize him." He scratched Grey Wind behind the ears, murmuring his thanks as his heart beat began to slow in his chest. "Are you alright?" He asked her in concern, wrapping an arm around her. He hated the slight glimmer of fear that he saw in her eyes and a surge of protectiveness surged over him.

At that moment Dacey Mormont burst into the tent, sword drawn as she quickly glanced around and took in the scene before her. Her eyes moved from the dead man on the floor to both Robb and Maliya, scanning them to make sure they were unhurt. An outraged look crossed her face. "Are you alright, Your Graces?" She asked, firing questions and continuing on without waiting for an answer. Where are the guards? Who is supposed to be stationed outside your tent tonight?" She strode out of the tent again and they could hear her yelling outside. "Raise the alarm, you sorry excuse for soldiers!" She roared. "Someone has attempted to murder the king right under your noses! I want to find out who this man is and how he got into the king's tent!"

"He got into our tent while we were _sleeping_ , Robb," she murmured, looking up at him worriedly. "If Grey Wind hadn't been here… Who sent him? Stannis? The Lannisters?"

"We'll get to the bottom of this," Robb promised, rubbing her back soothingly as she leaned against him, thanking the Old Gods that they were both alright. He, however, had another thing to worry about in addition to the attempt on his life.

He had had that dream again, the one where he dreamt that he was Grey Wind. Except this time was different… this time when he woke up, he knew that there was a man in their tent, a man who was going to kill them. He knew that he needed to get to his weapon quickly and he also knew that Grey Wind was there to protect them, which meant that his dream wasn't a dream. It was impossible… yet somehow he had been inside Grey Wind's mind.

What was happening to him?

* * *

 **Author's Note: Well, Maliya has finally decided to stop taking the Moon Tea! I'm sure that will make a lot of you very happy. Also, it looks like the secrets that Maliya has been keeping from Robb are building up along with the guilt. Will she start cracking under the pressure?**

 **She was able to catch up a bit with Tyene, but her heart to heart with Oberyn was one of the scenes that was put on hold. What did you guys think of the scenes with Theon? That was pretty tricky for me to write and I hope you were able to understand his feelings and his decisions.**

 **Next up: Maliya and Oberyn, a group rides to the Crags, Theon deals with the consequences of his decision, possibly another conversation between Maliya and Jaime and a few other surprises thrown in there.**

Charlie: Thanks for your review! You're very astute, Maliya will definitely continued to be affected by Lorch's murder. She's only human and if something like that didn't affect her, than something is seriously wrong lol. I hope you liked this chapter!

Rusty14: You were thinking along the same lines as Maliya! She didn't care who she was at that moment, morally she couldn't just leave those women to suffer that fate. Unfortunately, life isn't that simple for her anymore, something that Lady Stark helped her realize. Her big decision wasn't to tell Robb the truth, not yet anyway! Thanks for your review!

Guest 1: Thanks for reviewing, here's the update!

Ada: Welcome to my story, I really enjoyed reading your review! I'm not really a fan of giving away too many spoilers because I like to surprise you guys, but I will say that Varys successfully smuggled Aegon out during the Sack of King's Landing I can't tell you how happy it makes me that you like Maliya/Rhaenys. Sometimes it's very difficult to create characters that fit into Game of Thrones, so I'm glad you believe her fighting skills and her need for revenge. I hope you liked this chapter, I can't wait to read what you thought!

Betho: Welcome to my story! I have to admit that I've never quite had a review that made me think as much as yours did! I'm glad you like the story, cause the way you described Maliya was in a way that I had never imagined her before. She sounded incredibly annoying haha! Thank you for describing Maliya's flaws in a respectful way, it was quite refreshing to read. Your words have given me a lot to consider and it actually sparked quite a few ideas for future chapters. I appreciate you understanding that Maliya is still young and the story is still new, so Maliya has a long way to go before she can overcome her flaws. We're only on season 2, after all! I hope you liked this chapter too!

Guest 2: Thanks for your review! It will be just as hard for Maliya to forget what she's done as it would be for you. I hope you enjoyed her and Robb's reunion, it's so nice to write them together again. I hope they work out their issues too Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	22. Downward Spiral

**Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, I loved reading your responses! I don't really have much to say except that I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Chapter 22: Downward Spiral

"Good morning, Uncle Oberyn," Maliya greeted, rising from the chair and walking over to kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks for agreeing to break your fast with me. It's been a week now, has there been any news?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Uncle Oberyn grumbled, following her to the table that she had set up in her tent and taking a seat. "Robb, his other bannermen and I have scoured the camp, but no one recognized the assassin or knows how those two guards died. It's infuriating!" He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he looked at her. "You know, maybe you and Robb should sleep in separate tents, just until we can figure out who is behind the assassination attempt. This way, I'll know you'll be safe – "

Maliya laughed, spooning oatmeal and fruit onto her plate. "Don't be absurd, uncle, I can't sleep apart from my husband! 'Our souls are bound as one for eternity', or something like that, right? I can't just abandon him because the Lannisters have sent an assassin after him."

"So you think it's the Lannisters as well?" He asked, pouring himself a glass of wine.

Maliya shrugged. "Who else would it be? Robb is waging war against them – he's holding the Kingslayer prisoner, he just destroyed their new army, he captured Ashemark, and the Greatjon captured the gold mines at Castamere, Nunn's Deep and Pendric Hills. Robb is pillaging his home and Tywin Lannister is furious." Maliya knew her uncle well enough to see the worry lurking behind his dark eyes. She gave him a small smile, reaching across the table and placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "You do not need to worry about me. Robb has created a rotating schedule of his most trusted guards and I'm almost positive that he's instructed Dacey Mormont to follow me about the camp. It would be quite annoying if I didn't understand how overprotective he is and that he is only trying to keep me safe."

"We worry about you, your father and I," Uncle Oberyn told her unapologetically, patting her hand before she withdrew it. "It is why Tyene and I are here and it is why Doran has sent five thousand men." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes alight. "There is something you must know, Maliya, something I couldn't mention in front of anyone else." A strange sense of foreboding washed over her and she was suddenly very afraid of what her uncle was about to say. "The men were sent under the terms of the alliance we created with the Starks upon your marriage, but they're here for you."

Maliya frowned, putting down the spoon she had raised halfway to her mouth. "For me?" She repeated, not understanding. "But Robb – "

Uncle Oberyn shook his head dismissively. "Is only the King in the North," he interrupted impatiently. "You are Rhaenys Targaryen, daughter of Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen and you are the rightful ruler of Westeros. "

Maliya gaped at her uncle, completely frozen and feeling as if she had been hit in the head with something incredibly heavy. Whatever she had been expecting, it certainly wasn't this. Her heart began to pound in her chest, her hands growing clammy as she nervously swallowed. "What – " her voice cracked and she stopped, clearing her throat as her eyes flickered to the entrance of the tent. "Keep your voice down, uncle, someone will hear you – "

"Maybe it is time that someone did," her uncle interrupted again, though he did lower his voice slightly. "Maybe it is time for you to reveal who you really are! This didn't quite happen the way we expected or planned, but no one can deny that it is the perfect time to do so. If you reveal yourself, we might be able to form alliances with houses that supported the Targaryens during the Usurper's war."

"Uncle Oberyn," Maliya tried to interrupt weakly, feeling as if the world was shifting from under her. She took a swig of water to moisten her dry mouth, wondering where in the Seven Hells all this was coming from.

He continued, not hearing her in his enthusiasm. "You would have the support of House Martell, obviously, and we might also win the support of Houses Darry, Redwyne, Mooton, Tarly and possibly even the Tyrells – "

"Uncle Oberyn!" She said louder, alamming her cup down so hard that water sloshed over the side. "I do not want to rule Westeros."

"Maybe, Maliya, this isn't about what you want," Uncle Oberyn countered, an edge to his voice. "Maybe it's what you need to do in order to get the justice that our family deserves. Weren't you the one who said that you would do whatever was necessary to get your revenge?" He noticed the look on her face and made an effort to gentle his tone. "You have the strongest claim to the throne, certainly better than that false Baratheon currently occupying it. The throne would have been your brother's if he had lived, but even still, your claim is better than that of your aunt or uncle."

Maliya blinked, shock rushing through her once more. "You _knew_ about Viserys and Danaerys?" She asked, eyes narrowed. "How long have you known? When did you find out that part of my Targaryen family was still alive and why didn't you tell me?"

"What purpose would that have served?" He asked, taking another sip of wine. "Your aunt and uncle had to flee because of the usurper and they never stayed in one place for long. I don't know if you remember those first few years, but you were traumatized, suddenly in a new place with new people and you had to completely immerse yourself in your new identity as Maliya Martell. If rumors had spread that there was a Targaryen still alive before we were ready, they would have come to kill you."

"A part of me _is_ Maliya Martell," she explained, trying to convey the sense of fear and panic that this conversation was bringing her. "I look like you and my father, like Arianne, Quentyn and Trystane. What proof do I have that I am Rhaegar Targaryen's daughter?" She asked, shaking her head. "Believe me, uncle, I have thought about revealing who I am, but who would believe me? It would cause more harm than good. I have lied to Robb and his entire family for over a year, I can't – " She broke off as a lump formed in her throat, the guilt slamming into her full force and leaving her breathless. _They would hate me_ , was what she wanted to say. _They would never be able to trust me again._

"If they love you, they would forgive you," he reminded her, smiling, certainly not sensing the panic rising within her. "Anyone would be able to understand why you did what you did, Maliya."

Maliya hesitated before speaking again, wanting to stop feeling this guilt and wondering if she should reveal one of her other secrets. The urge to show her uncle was so incredibly strong. To be able to share some of the burden, to be able to tell someone, to get some advice…. "I – I might have something that would convince people that I am a Targaryen," she told him quickly, getting up from the table and retrieving her bag from its hiding place. She held it close to her as she walked back to her uncle. "I found this in the crypts of Winterfell a few moons after I was married," she explained, placing the bag on the table and beginning to slowly dig through it. "I had a dream or a vision one night… it was actually my father who led me to it."

Her uncle let out a low gasp, rising from his chair as Maliya revealed the egg. "Is that…."

"A dragon egg," she confirmed, staring down at it with an unreadable expression in her eyes. Her hands trailed over the egg, tracing the scales lovingly and wishing that she could feel heat emanating from it. "There was a hidden room behind Cregan Stark's tomb. It looked like there were other eggs as well, but there was some sort of cave-in and this was the only one that was still intact."

"Can I hold it?" Her uncle asked in a hushed voice, a look of awe upon his face.

She passed it over to him and he took it as if he were holding a newborn child. "I haven't seen any sign of life since I found it; I think it's turned to stone. I've tried to get it to hatch, but nothing I tried worked. Do you have any ideas?"

"It is heavy enough to be a stone," Uncle Oberyn said, looking thoughtful as he tested the weight. "Unforunately, the secret of how to hatch a dragon was lost centuries ago. I'm sure you've heard of the various attempts that other Targaryens have made. It was never confirmed, but they say the Tragedy at Summerhall was because the king at the time tried to hatch eggs using fire and sorcery." He suddenly frowned at her, looking worried. "How did you try to hatch it? You didn't do anything dangerous, did you? Because hatching this egg isn't worth risking your life over."

"I just tried a few different things with fire," Maliya answered, shrugging. She paused, voicing a fear that had been plaguing her since she found the egg. "Maybe it just won't hatch for me because I'm only half Targaryen."

"Ah, my sweet niece, I'm sure if there was any sign of life in this egg that it would hatch for you," he assured her, handing her the egg and watching her hide it back in the bag. "I suppose it's inevitable that you have your father's blood running through you, but you are your mother's daughter." He put an arm around her and pulled her close. She closed her eyes as she leaned her head against his chest, letting his deep voice wash over her. "Your mother was beautiful, kind, and gracious, with a sharp wit that often contrasted my own. Even after everything that happened to her, she was a Martell to her last breath – Unbowed, Unbent and Unbroken. She was my closest friend and I would have done anything for her. Just as I would do anything for you."

"Thanks, Uncle Oberyn," she sighed. Her heart gave that strange, painful pang that it always did whenever she thought of her mother and she felt sadness wrap around her like a cloak. "We will have our justice eventually."

"Thanks to you, we are that much closer," he said as she hid her bag once more. They both returned to their seats and resumed breaking their fast, though Maliya found that her appetite had fled. "Tell me again how you killed Lorch."

Maliya's chest tightened. "I've told it to you half a dozen times," she said, trying to laugh it off when the truth was that she just didn't want to relive the experience again. "Aren't you getting tired of hearing it?"

"Never," her uncle grinned, popping a berry into his mouth. "You don't have to start at the beginning, you can just start at the fight – "

"I don't _want_ to tell it again," Maliya snapped, realizing too late that her voice sounded harsher than she had intended. She sighed at how taken aback her uncle looked and put down her fork. "I'm sorry," she apologized, looking over at him. "Don't misunderstand, I'm happy that Lorch is dead and I'm glad that I was the one to kill him, but… I don't feel any different."

"That's because we are not done yet," her uncle assured her. "We still have to finish what we started."

"I know." Maliya nodded slowly, thinking out loud. "But I think that Robb and Lady Stark were right. It was Brienne and I against six men. We didn't canvas the village properly – there could have been more men. Anything could have gone wrong and I could have died. If I die, or if you die, then what's the point? All of this would be for nothing."

"What are you saying, Maliya?" The expression on her uncle's face was guarded and closed off and Maliya found herself pleading with him in a low voice.

"All I'm saying is that we have to be smart about this, uncle. We will have our revenge, I promise you, but we don't take any unnecessary risks. Think about my father, Ellaria and the Sand Snakes. Think of how we would feel if you were to die. Just as you, Robb and everyone back in Dorne would feel if I were to die," she whispered. It was a realization that had slowly began to dawn on her over the past fortnight or so. She had worked and trained so hard to attain her revenge that she had never given much thought to her future. But now… now she had Robb, and if they survived this war, she had a future in front of her.

"You sound like your father," he said, a proud smile on his lips. He accurately read the worry in her eyes at the mention of her father. "He's alright, Maliya. His pain has worsened slightly, and it's harder for him to walk, but his mind and his spirits are still intact. He worries about you, especially now. Most of all, though, he just wishes for you to be happy."

"I know," she murmured, looking down at her mostly uneaten oatmeal. "I read his letter. I read all their letters actually. Even after all this time, being so far away from Dorne hurts. I miss them."

"I know you do. Once all of this is over, you'll be able to come and visit. Everyone would be so thrilled to see you." He gave her a long, searching look and Maliya resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably in her seat. "I know that you have been Maliya Martell for the past six and ten years, and I know that we spent years drilling it into you that you had to conceal your real identity. Promise me, my sweet niece, you'll think on what I've said. It may seem like a daunting task now, but I believe that it will help you in the end."

"I promise," she answered weakly. Maliya felt as if there were a horse sitting on her chest, restricting her breathing and pushing against her heart. It wasn't a daunting task – it was _terrifying_. If she revealed who she was, she could lose everything that she had gained in this past year. It would take a lot of work to convince Robb and his family, but she knew a part of her was right earlier. If she didn't have any proof, then no one would believe her. _You need that dragon egg to hatch_ , her mind whispered, showing her an enticing picture of her flying through the air, wings beating on either side. _They wouldn't dare doubt you when they see a dragon right in front of them. For when the egg hatches, a dragon will be born and Rhaenys Targaryen will be reborn amidst fire and blood._

* * *

 **Theon's POV**

Relief. Relief so great that it made him weak in the knees. The wildling woman had caught on to his hidden meaning the other night when he had said that she was free to go. She took the boys, their wolves and the half-wit, killed two of his men and escaped Winterfell. It was cleverly done and he couldn't help but be impressed. The woman had sent the wolves up ahead to distract the dogs, while she and the others doubled back and around a different way. He had ordered that they expand the search, moving quickly now that the sun was beginning to set.

The relief, unfortunately, came with a heavy dose of doubt and regret. While the boys were safe, he was now in more danger than ever and he couldn't help but wish the wildling woman hadn't succeeded. Without them, all of Westeros would think him both weak and a fool. He would be the moron that let a cripple, a halfwit and a six year old boy slip right out from under his nose. There was a small part of him that had wanted to find the boys again, but it looked like they were well and truly gone.

So now, he had to do something that would save his reputation, something that would strike fear into his enemies hearts instead of sneering laughter. He glanced at Dagmar Cleftjaw again. _Send the old man home,_ he had said, a dark, sinister look in his eye. Theon had caught onto his meaning at once. He remembered the miller's wife ushering her two boys inside when they had rode up on their search. Boys that were about the same height and age as Bran and Rickon.

The thought made his stomach twist unpleasantly, a wave of nausea rolling over him. He swallowed hard against the bile rising in his throat and forced himself to nod his agreement. "Go back to Winterfell," Theon ordered Maester Luwin, ignoring the flash of fear and apprehension on the old man's face. "You two go with him," he nodded to the men on either side of him.

"Don't do this Theon, you don't have to do this!" Maester Luwin cried as he was practically dragged back to the horses.

 _Yes, I do,_ Theon answered silently. _I already let the Stark boys escape, I can't return back to Winterfell empty handed. The people will revolt against me and when word reaches my sister and my father, I will never get the respect I deserve._

He waited until the horses rode out of sight before turning back to the mill. Steeling himself, Theon pulled his sword free, clenched his jaw and got to work.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

A smile was plastered on Maliya's face as she strolled through the camp early one morning, one hand resting on the pommel of her sword. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and her uncle hadn't brought up revealing her true identity again. Beside all that, though, she had a training session planned with her cousin, something that she hadn't done in a long time.

She had been so excited by the prospect of fighting again that she had risen extra early, even earlier than Robb. Her smile turned into a smirk. Well, she did wear him out spectacularly, so she couldn't exactly blame him for trying to catch up on his sleep. He didn't exactly get much of it last night.

"Rise and shine, Tyene!" Maliya singsonged as she entered her tent. "Prepare to be – seven hells!" She cried, clapping a hand over her eyes and stopping short. "My eyes!"

She heard Tyene laugh. "Oh relax, Maliya, it's nothing you haven't seen before! Besides, all of our important bits are covered."

Maliya cautiously peeked between her fingers to see her blonde cousin sitting up in bed, a sheet carefully wrapped around her chest. The man in her bed had climbed off her and she was relieved to see the sheet covered his waist. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just walked in without asking first – " she paused, really looking at the man next to her, taking in his light brown hair, blue eyes, and close cropped beard. "Daemon Sand? Is that really you?"

"It's really me," he grinned, causing his infamous dimples to show and her own smile to widen. Daemon had been an incredible handsome boy who turned into an even better looking man. She would never admit it out loud, but she had always had a slightly infatuation with him growing up – he was a very talented swordsman, something that she admired about him. He was several years older than her, however, and he had a compliated history with her sister Arianne, so she had never acted on her feelings. That and she had been too scared to ever say anything to him. "It's nice to see you again, Your Grace. Oh, wait, do I need to bow - "

"No, no, no!" Maliya interrupted loudly, waving her hands as he made to get out of the bed and the sheet dipped dangerously low. "We're old friends, you don't have to bow," she assured him quickly. "Why don't I wait outside while you two make yourselves presentable."

She hurried out of the tent before they could say anything. She ran a hand through her hair and blew out a long breath. Apparently she had been in the rigid north for far longer than she thought – she nearly forgot how free and uninhibited people from Dorne were. "Alright, Maliya, you can come back in."

When she re-entered the tent, she was relieved to see that Tyene was wearing a simple, light blue gown and Daemon was shoving his feet into his boots. "So, when did all this happen?" She asked curiously, waving her hand between the two of them. "It had to have started after I left."

"It's fairly recent," Tyene shrugged, glancing coyly over at Daemon. "Traveling hundreds of leagues can get fairly boring." She walked over to Daemon, a small smile on her lips as her fingers danced up his chest. "We were attracted to each other, obviously, and found that we both have _needs_ that the other could satisfy quite well."

Daemon grinned down at her, his hands wrapping around her waist. "This woman is a beautiful seductress that no man could ever possibly resist."

Their faces drifted closer together and Maliya could practically feel the tension in the air. "Do you two want me to come back later?" She asked awkwardly, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder.

"No," Daemon sighed, kissing Tyene one last time before forcing himself to step away. "I'm supposed to be helping Prince Oberyn pack his things before the journey. Tyene, Your Grace." He grinned at them both before slipping out of the tent.

"Journey?" Maliya repeated, crossing her arms with a frown. "Where is Uncle Oberyn going?"

Tyene sat back on the bed, looking confused. "Haven't you heard? King Robb is taking a few thousand men and marching on the Crag. He's asked father to accompany him." Tyene caught Maliya's troubled look. "He didn't tell you?"

Maliya sighed and sat down heavily next to her cousin, rubbing at the burning feeling in her chest. _Why didn't Robb tell her about going to the Crag?_ "No, he did not. Maybe he was planning on just disappearing and hoping that I wouldn't notice."

"Why wouldn't he say anything?"

"Robb and I don't exactly see eye to eye on the whole battle aspect of this war," she explained. "Every time I try to convince him to let me fight, we get into the same argument over and over again."

"You?" Tyene asked, pretending to sound shocked, placing her hand on her chest for effect. "Getting into an argument? Never!" Maliya gave her an unpimpressed, pointed look and Tyene dropped the act with a chuckle. "Alright, you're not in a joking mood, I get it. What do you argue about?"

"I want to fight in the battles alongside him and he says women aren't supposed to fight." She rolled her eyes as she recalled his arguments. "It's completely ridiculous! He knows that Uncle Oberyn trained me to fight and he's seen me in action – it's infuriating. You know, one time I had to dress up like a man just to get a chance to fight?"

Tyene laughed. "You know, oddly enough I can see you doing that." She hesitated, looking as if she were unsure of whether or not to say what was on her mind, something that she had never been bothered by before. "Can I be honest with you, Maliya?"

"Of course!" She answered immediately, laying a hand on Tyene's arm. "Ty, you can always be honest with me, you know that."

"You knew before you even left Dorne that women in the north weren't allowed to fight, did you not?"

Maliya frowned. "Well, yes, but – "

"Look, Maliya, I know you very well and I know that Arianne would agree with me on this. You can be very – how do I phrase this delicately," she mumbled, before taking a breath and facing Maliya completely. "Stubborn. Hard-headed. Argumentative – "

"Thanks for sparing my feelings," Maliya muttered sarcastically under her breath, feeling slightly offended.

Tyene's lips twitched. "All I'm saying is that when you don't get your way, you tend to push and push until the other person gives in. Uncle Doran usually stood strong against you, but my father would eat up anything you said. You grew up in a place where women were allowed to fight and Robb grew up in a place where women were not. It sounds as if he's just as stubborn as you are. You two are just pushing against each other and one of these days something is going to break. Somewhere along the way one of you is going to have to give in."

"Give in?" Maliya repeated, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.

"Yes," Tyene chuckled. "Both of you give something up and meet in the middle. I believe it's called compromise. I know this because I'm older and have more experience than you," she teased.

"Only by four years," Maliya pointed out in irritation, noting the older girl's smug look. She fell quiet as she considered Tyene's words. "You don't think I should be allowed to fight?"

"Of course you should!" Tyene responded immediately, giving her a strange look. "You're incredibly talented with a sword and your skills are going to waste if you don't fight. But men are dense. If you don't make the first move, then he won't see that you're willing to work with him."

"I'll think about what you said. Thanks, Ty," Maliya sighed, a tired smile on her face. "Have I mentioned how glad I am that you're here? I don't have anyone to talk to about these things except for Robb, and that obviously doesn't work very well."

"No problem, little cousin. Now as far as actually being able to go to the Crag, it sounds like you need a different tactic." Tyene stood, staring down at her with her hands on her hips and her head cocked to the side. "Have we taught you nothing, dear cousin?" She asked, shaking her head in disappointment. "What advice did we give you before you left Dorne?"

"Which piece of advice are you referring to?" Maliya asked drily, raising an eyebrow.

"I distinctly remember telling you that you can beat a man with one sword, but if you learn to handle the other sword, no man will be able to defeat or resist you," Tyene informed her matter of factly. "I've seen the way that man looks at you, Maliya. If you can control your temper, and put your hands and mouth to work, there's no way that he can say no."

Maliya looked thoughtful, her brown eyes twinkling. "Well, controlling my temper would certainly be a different tactic. I suppose it's worth a try. The worst that he could do is say no." If nothing else it would distract him from everything else that was going on – the war, the assassin, Bran and Rickon. Her poor husband was unbelievably stressed these past few weeks and she was doing anything and everything to support him and occasionally keep his mind off things.

Tyene grinned mischeviously. "You know, I have a special dress from Dorne, one that Arianne designed for… special occasions."

Maliya watched her cousin go over to her trunk. She could already imagine the type of dress that Arianne designed and when Tyene pulled it free, she found that her assumptions were correct. It was a long, flowing dress, made entirely out of lace and didn't leave much to the imagination. Maliya's eyebrows shot up. "Why would you possibly need to bring this to the battlefield?" She asked, mystified.

Tyene shrugged. "There was extra room in my trunk and you never know when the occasion will call for it. It's important to be prepared for all situations, little cousin, you know that."

Maliya stared at the dress again and then looked back up at her. "Even still, this dress definitely goes against the innocent persona you are trying to project."

"Would you just try it on?" Tyene said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, red is your favorite color. Besides, you know I prefer lighter colors – the bolder colors wash out my pale skin."

"Oh, alright, help me into it then, will you?" Maliya slipped out of the dress she was currently wearing and into the red one. Her and Tyene were around the same size, so it ended up fitting her fairly well.

"Hair up or down?" Tyene asked.

"Robb likes it down," she admitted, blushing slightly as she looked down at herself. "This is entirely too revealing."

"Your husband has seen you wearing absolutely nothing," Tyene reminded her, rolling her eyes again. "His Grace is going to absolutely die." She giggled at the look on Maliya's face. "Now, borrow my cloak, wrap yourself up so none of these lecherous soldiers can't see you, and seduce your husband until he agrees to let you go with him to the Crag."

"If you say so," Maliya grinned, feeling the excitement running through her veins as she held the cloak tight around her. She hurried through the camp with her head down, not wanting to be stopped by anyone in case any awkward questions arose. She smiled quickly at the guards standing outside their tent and stepped inside when they held the flap aside.

Her eyes immediately found Robb to see that he was no longer sleeping. He was standing beside the bed, barefoot and bare-chested with just his breeches on. She hid a grin, glad that she had caught him just before he finished dressing. He glanced over his shoulder at her, smiling when he saw her. "Morning, love," he greeted, before bending down to pick up his tunic. Her eyes trailed over his broad chest and strong shoulders, his slightly mussed hair and stubble making a very attractive image. Seducing this handsome man was certainly not going to be a chore on her part. Feeling a flutter in her stomach, she unclasped the cloak from around her neck and let it drop to the floor. "Where did you run off to so – "

Robb turned to glance at her once more and did a fast double take, his blue eyes bulging from his head and his lips parting in astonishment. She felt her cheeks and body grow warm as his eyes moved down her body, taking in the dress as his mouth opened and closed wordlessly. "Are you speechless, my king?" She asked in amusement, slowly moving toward him. She stopped in front of him, taking the tunic out of his hands and tossing it somewhere behind her.

"Where – " he broke off, clearing his throat as Maliya stood on her tiptoes and pressed a light kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Where did you get that dress?"

She grinned against his throat as she felt it bob up and down. "Do you like it?" She murmured, moving her lips up past his rapidly beating pulse, trailing kisses as she went. "I woke up early this morning still thinking about last night. All that _hard_ work that you did…" Her lips moved further up. "I remembered the way I struggled to catch my breath… the way my toes curled." She whispered in his ear, her lips brushing against it and causing him to shudder. "The way I could do nothing but scream your name."

"Maliya," he breathed huskily, deep blue pools of blue staring down at her wildly.

"I was thinking," she continued, trying to hide how affected she was from just his gaze. She added her hands to the mix, trailing them through the hair on his chest, brushing against his nipples and down further. "That maybe I should return the favor. Would you like that?" She asked, looking up at him through her lashes.

"Gods, yes," he groaned, his hands reaching out to grip her as if to steady himself.

Nearly holding her breath, she slowly and torturously began to unlace his breeches all the while pressing kisses along his chest. "You know, rumor has it that you will be leaving for the Crag in a few days," she breathed, keeping her voice light. One of her hands dipped inside once there was enough room and found him more than ready for her, something he never failed to do whenever they were together. She looked up at him as she heard his breath catch and saw his eyelids flutter shut as her fingers danced along the length of him. "Apparently, my uncle and some of his men are going to be joining you."

"Maliya," he tried to say, but she was entirely too focused on her task.

She pulled his breeches down so that they pooled around his ankles, allowing him to spring free. "I can't imagine why you wouldn't have told me about this," she murmured, hands moving along him as her lips trailed down lower. "I know we've had our arguments in the past, but – "

"Maliya," he said firmly, regretfully stopping her hands. He put a knuckle under her chin, lifting her gaze so she was looking up at him. "You're coming with me to the Crag. I would have told you that last night, but, well – we were a little preoccupied," he chuckled, a proud glint in his eyes.

"Really?" Maliya asked, blinking in stunned disbelief. "You want me to come with you?"

"I do," he smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I just got you back, Maliya, I'm not letting you out of my sight for a very long time."

"It makes me very happy to hear that," she grinned, her heart fluttering in her chest. She pretended to heave a big sigh. "Well, that's all I came here for, I have some other business I need to attend to," she teased, moving to walk away from him in his current state.

"Oh, no you don't," Robb muttered, grabbing her wrist and yanking her back towards him. She ignored the slight pain as her breasts we slightly crushed against his chest, letting out a laugh as his arms threaded around her waist, holding her tightly to him. "There's no way I'm letting you leave this tent looking like that, especially when you've got me all worked up." She glanced down between them at the evidence of his arousal and grinned.

"I do owe you a favor, don't I?" She asked, pretending to stop and think before she shrugged. "Oh, alright, if I must."

"Little minx," he growled, noting the teasing glint in her eye. He swiftly picked her up and tossed her on the bed before climbing up after her.

She grinned into his kiss, his lips urgent and demanding and distracting. She stopped his hands from undoing the dress, trying to remember the favor that she owed him. Surprising him completely, she flipped them over so she was on top, smiling devilishly down at him as her lips trailed lower and lower. When they finally reached their destination, she heard his sharp intake of breath, felt his hands tangle in her hair, moving it away so he could watch and thought that it was too bad he had already agreed to letting her accompany him to the Crag. She was pretty sure he would have agreed to anything she asked for.

* * *

"Are you packed and ready to leave?" Robb asked Maliya, placing his hand on her back. He was in full battle armor with his sword on his hip.

Maliya patted the bag that she had tied to Shadow's saddle. "I'm all ready," she confirmed. She had also fastened her sword to the saddle, but she had successfully done that without Robb noticing.

"Great. I'm going to make sure the rest of the men are ready. I'll be back shortly."

"Alright. I'll be here." She smiled as he pressed a kiss to her temple and walked off. While she was waiting for the troops to march off, she walked around Shadow, making sure his saddle was fastened properly. "Hello, boy," she murmured softly, stopping in front of him and rubbing his nose. "I'm sorry you have to keep hauling around all this heavy weight. Don't give me that look, you silly horse, I don't mean me." She sighed, pressing a forehead against his head. "There are so many things that I'm uncertain of that it's starting to become overwhelming." The egg, the letter, her past, her future… it all jumbled together in her mind. _How do I hatch a fossilized dragon egg? When should I show the letter to the Starks? Should I reveal my true identity? Will Robb hate me forever and will it ruin my marriage?_

"Morning, cousin," Tyene greeted, causing Maliya to jump. "Who is that talking with the king?"

Maliya looked up, glancing over her shoulder to see Robb talking with a dark haired woman. "That's Lady Talisa, she's been helping the Silent Sisters treat the wounded. Why do you ask?"

"I don't like her," Tyene declared immediately, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Look at the way she's looking at your husband."

Maliya rolled her eyes, turning back to Shadow. "It's common courtesy to look at someone when you're talking to them, Tyene. Don't be so ridiculous."

"Believe me, I can pick up on these things from a league away. That woman is attracted to your husband."

"So is half of Westeros," Maliya told her with a snicker. "If I got upset at every woman who found Robb attractive, it would drive me mad. Now, stop trying to cause trouble. Robb loves me and I trust him. When he starts tiring of me and doesn't want to ravish me every other night, then I'll be worried."

"If you say so," Tyene shrugged. She glanced over to see Robb approaching them, Grey Wind joining his side. Her eyes fell on the giant direwolf and she took a step backwards. "I have to go check on my horse before we leave." Maliya opened her mouth to say goodbye but she was already gone.

"The men are saddling up and we'll be leaving in a few minutes."

"Will Lady Talisa be accompanying us?" Maliya asked, looking up at him.

"No," Robb shook his head, holding up a list of items. "She's just requested that we look for a few supplies that she's running low on once we take the Crag."

Maliya smiled up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, that confident are we?" She teased.

"Well, the castle is lightly garrisoned, and we do have more men than they do," he grinned, bending down to peck her on the lips. "Come on, saddle up."

She paused. "I will, I just need to use the privy before we go."

"Again?" Robb blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Didn't you just do that?"

"Apparently I drank more while breaking my fast than I thought I did." She grinned at the adorably confused look on his face and couldn't resist leaning up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his one more time. "Don't worry, I'll be quick!" She called over her shoulder before hurrying off.

* * *

Robb lead a couple thousand men away from Ashmarke and toward the Crag, a combination of northmen, Bolton men, and Dornishmen. The Crag was relatively close to where they had been camped so it didn't take long to reach the castle, though it felt like forever to Maliya. She didn't know if was the way she was swaying in the saddle or the slightly bruised apple that she had eaten this morning, but her stomach was in an uproar. She spent most of the ride fighting waves of nausea, swallowing reflexively when she felt the bile rising in her throat.

She could have cried with relief when they finally stopped to set up camp a safe distance from the castle. She shakily slid down from Shadow's saddle, the world tilting slightly when she planted both feet on the ground.

"Maliya?" Tyene called in concern as Maliya walked with as much dignity and self-respect as she could, placed a hand on a nearby tree, leaned over and heaved. "Are you alright?" Tyene asked, hurrying over to her and gathering Maliya's hair in one hand to avoid getting sick on it and rubbing her back with the other.

"I'm alright," Maliya assured her, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and inwardly wincing at the gross taste. Luckily when she looked around it seemed that only Tyene had noticed that she had stepped off to the side. Most of the men were already rushing about them, setting up the tents and establishing a perimeter. "It must have been something I ate," she explained, using her hand to wave away Tyene's concern as she walked back to Shadow to grab her bag and sword.

Tyene was frowning as she watched her, her blue eyes doubtful. "'Liya, you haven't eaten anything all day, I tried to get you to eat something numerous times, but – "

"Stop worrying, my dear cousin, I'm feeling fine." She saw Robb approaching, his King face on and one hand on the hilt of his sword. "Do _not_ say anything to Robb," she hissed warningly to Tyene under her breath. "If he knows what happened he won't let me fight in the siege."

"Maliya – " Tyene stopped abruptly at both the look on Maliya's face and the arrival of Robb.

Robb attempted a smile in Tyene's direction, but Maliya could tell that he was preoccupied with the task at hand, his mind in full battle mode. "Would you mind giving me a moment alone with my wife?" Tyene nodded, sending one last look in Maliya's direction before moving a short distance away. Robb put a hand on the small of Maliya's back and led her away.

"So what's the plan?" She asked him, linking her arm through his. "When do we attack? If it makes you feel better, you can surround me with guards, I know you've had Dacey Mormont keeping an eye on me – "

"Maliya," he interrupted gently, stopping to face her and taking her hands in his. His face was guarded and he looked slightly uncomfortable. "I know I said I wanted you to come with me, and I'm glad you're here, but – "

"But you meant for me to stay behind in the tent, not join in on the fighting," Maliya finished in a quiet voice, looking away from him, her jaw clenching. Her first instinct was to open her mouth and argue with him, but she fought against it, remembering Tyene's words. Seven hells, she really was argumentative wasn't she? She looked back up into Robb's face, noting the stress around his eyes and mouth and damn, there was that guilt again. He was dealing with so much and she had promised that she would help support him. If she couldn't tell him the truth, then maybe she could help him by giving him the peace of mind of knowing that she was safe back in the tent. "Alright Robb. If that's what you want, then that's what I'll do."

"Listen, Maliya, I know that – " He stopped, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Wait. You're agreeing with me? Just like that? No arguments?" He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead, then cupped her cheek, frowning. "Are you feeling alright?"

Barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she pulled his hand away from her face and lacing their fingers together. "I love you, Robb," she said, forcing a smile on her face and forcing the words out even though there was a part of her that felt like it was dying inside. "I don't want to fight with you anymore."

Robb stared down at her, searching her face for a long moment with a troubled expression. She inwardly frowned. Why didn't he look relieved? "I love you too," he finally responded. He glanced away as a group of soldiers jogged past. "I need to meet with Prince Oberyn and the rest of the bannermen to go over the plan. We attack when night falls." He paused again, that strange look crossing his face. "I'm… I'm glad you're going to be safe," he murmured, putting a knuckle under her chin, lifting her face so he could gently kiss her. "I'll see you soon."

"For the sake of the Seven, Maliya, would you stop pacing?" Tyene complained, from where she was lounging on the bed in Maliya's tent. "You're starting to wear a path into the ground."

"It's been hours," Maliya growled under her breath, fists clenching and unclenching as she picked up the pace, skirts flaring out every time she turned. "I feel as if I'm going mad, Tyene. This isn't me. I shouldn't be sitting here in the tent like some weak, defenseless woman, I should be out there with Robb and Uncle Oberyn. I should be fighting." She threw Tyene a disgruntled look. "This is all your fault."

Tyene lifted an eyebrow, looking amused. "How exactly is this my fault?"

"You and all your talk of _compromise_."

"That was good advice and you know it."

"That's besides the point," Maliya grumbled, waving a hand. "I just can't stand this." She flopped backwards on the bed with a groan, covering her face with both her arms.

"I almost forgot how over dramatic you were," Tyene sighed, shifting closer to her and prying her arms away from her face. Maliya blinked up at her cousin's grinning, thoroughly entertained face. "Listen, Maliya, the only reason you're so stressed out is because you're worried about the King. He hasn't been gone long enough to worry this much. Look at it this way. You're lucky you're married to a man considerate enough to see you before he rides off to battle."

"You're right," Maliya nodded, forcing herself to take a deep breath. "Robb and his men came up with a good plan. Scaling parties over the walls and a ram through the gates all in the middle of the night? House Westerling won't know they're coming until it's too late." Maliya's brown eyes were pleading as she looked up at Tyene. "Distract me before I go insane. Tell me about home," she pleaded.

And Tyene did. Even as her stomach twisted with worry over Robb's safety, Maliya found herself smiling as her cousin told her stories about Doran, Arianne, Trystane and the other Sand Snakes. She couldn't wait for this war to be over so that she could go back and see them all.

Maliya suddenly sat up, listening. "Do you hear that?" Her eyes widened. "Horses! They're back!" Without waiting for Tyene's response, she leaped off the bed, picking up her skirts so she could hurry outside the tent. She felt Tyene following her as they dashed to the edge of camp to watch the soldiers returning.

The noise was thunderous. Not only were the horses themselves loud, but the men were cheering and and banging their weapons against their shields. "The King in the North!" They shouted. "Winterfell!"

"I'm assuming the siege was successful," she heard Tyene drawl under her breath.

Maliya heard none of it. Her eyes were flickering from soldier to soldier, searching. While some part of her knew that the men wouldn't be shouting and cheering if Robb wasn't alright, she couldn't really believe it until she saw him for herself. And then there he was… partially slumped over in his saddle with his left shoulder wrapped in a white bandage. Someone had removed the armor that she had made for him and she cursed herself when it became apparent that it wasn't as infallible as she had hoped. His face was paler than usual, but his eyes were bright and there was a victorious smile on his face.

"He's injured," Maliya muttered in a low voice, her eyes narrowing at the flash of fear that ran through her. "I'm going to kill him."

"Wouldn't that be counterproductive?" Tyene asked rhetorically. "He looks alright to me, Maliya, he wouldn't be riding a horse if he was hurt that badly." Uncle Oberyn rode up beside Robb as he pulled to a stop in front of them, and both Maliya and Tyene let out a collective sigh of relief to see that he was unharmed.

Robb waved away Oberyn's offer to help him down, but Maliya noticed his mouth tighten in pain when his feet made contact and it jostled his shoulder. "Ah, what a battle!" Uncle Oberyn declared, grinning from ear to ear. His body was positively vibrating with pent up energy. "After so many moons stuck on a ship, it was a relief to stretch these old muscles and use my spear again. And what a battle it was. You should have seen it, Maliya, it was fantastic. The scaling parties were up and over the walls before the enemy even realized we were there and when the King and his direwolf broke through the gates, you could practically feel their fear."

Maliya's lip twitched. Nothing ignited the fire in her uncle's blood quite like fighting – well, that and sex, of course. "It was quite a battle," Robb agreed, clapping a hand on her uncle's shoulder with his uninjured arm. "It was an honor to fight beside such a legend."

"Robb," Maliya said in a low voice, drawing his attention to her. She resisted the urge to put her hands on her hips in response to the flickers of panic she was feeling. What if the arrow had been a little lower and a couple inches to the left?

"I'm fine, Maliya, I promise," he assured her, already knowing why her eyes were narrowed. "It's nothing but a flesh wound. I was hit in the shoulder with an arrow, but once we took the castle, the maester removed it easily and stitched it up. He made a poultice to prevent infection and said that the wound should heal within a fortnight." She stared up at him, her mind running through all the scenarios in which things could have ended much differently. This was why she needed to be there with him. If she was there, maybe this could have been prevented. "I'm fine," he repeated, smiling and reading her mind and the worry in her brown eyes. He surreptitiously reached out for her hand, lacing their fingers together. She clutched it tightly, drawing on his strength and his reassurances and took a deep breath.

"Alright." She plastered a smile on her face and tried to push her concern away. "Shall I have some wine and food sent to our tent? You should probably rest so you don't pull the stitches." He nodded and she turned to her uncle and cousin. "You both are welcome to join us. I'm eager to hear more about the battle."

"As am I," Tyene added.

"I'll recount it in detail," her uncle promised with a grin. "It was one of the most decisive victories I've seen in years."

"It helped that we were cloaked in the darkness of the night," she heard Robb say to her uncle as they headed towards the tent. "They didn't realize we were attacking them until it was too late."

Tyene turned to look at Maliya. "I'm going to check in on Daemon. Just to make sure he's alright," she clarified at the look on Maliya's face. "I'll meet you at your tent shortly." Smiling softly and shaking her head, Maliya set off in search of a guard who would deliver the wine and food to their tent.

When she entered their tent, she found that Robb had ordered two extra chairs to be set up alongside the table and he and Uncle Oberyn were sitting at it, talking quietly amongst themselves. Maliya paused for a moment, a warm feeling spreading through her chest as she watched them. They were chatting with relative ease and she felt pleased that her husband and her uncle seemed to be getting along.

Robb looked up as she entered, sending her a smile that never failed to make her heart accelerate. She smiled back at him before glancing at her uncle. "So what tales of your heroic deeds have I missed so far?" She asked, her eyes light and teasing as she moved to sit in the chair next to Robb, her hand brushing his uninjured shoulder as she passed.

Her uncle eagerly launched into a detailed account of the battle from the moment the attack began and Maliya forced herself to pay attention, making the appropriate noises of awe and astonishment. Unfortunately, it was more difficult than she would have thought. What in the seven hells was wrong with her? Her emotions were all over the place lately and she could hardly make sense of what she was feeling. While she knew that battles were dangerous and risky, this was all hitting her so hard because for the first time, Robb was actually hurt.

Robb shifted uncomfortably in his chair, wincing as he tried to find a more comfortable position for his arm and shoulder. Horrified, Maliya's eyes began to water and her throat began to burn at the thought of him in pain. It only worsened when she remembered yet again that he could die, alone on a battlefield while she was left behind in the tent, waiting. Her stomach roiled and she felt as if she was going to get physically sick again.

 _Robb is not going to die,_ Maliya told herself in anger and frustration. _And I cannot deal with this panic and fear every time that Robb rides off into battle – it would eat away at me until there was nothing left._

Seeming to sense Maliya's inner turmoil, Oberyn sent her a sidelong glance. She met her uncle's gaze and imperceptively shook her head, indicating that she was alright. At that moment, a young man with rather long brown hair entered the tent carrying a tray of four cups of wine, as per her instructions. He stepped aside so another man could enter and place bowls of rabbit stew in front of each of them, including one in front of Tyene's empty chair.

The man serving the stew bowed respectfully before he left and the young man with the wine began to step forward. Just as he did, however, Tyene swept into the tent. "Ah, excellent," she beamed angelically, pausing in front of the man to swipe a cup off the tray. "Correct me if I'm mistaken, but this is wine from Dorne, is it not? Wherever did you find it?"

The young man's eyes bulged as Tyene raised the cup to her lips and drank. "Is everything alright?" Maliya asked him curiously, tilting her head to the side as the man stared at Tyene in shock.

The man started at the sound of her voice, tearing his gaze away from Tyene to glance at her. "I – yes, of course, Your Grace," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the remaining cups on his tray, his eyes flickering between them, his face pale and his eyebrows furrowed. "Our men found a casket of Dornish wine in the cellars of the Crag, it appeared to be the last of their reserves. I hope it is to your liking."

Tyene took a seat as the man walked past her to serve the King first and Maliya caught the strong scent of the wine. Her stomach turned unpleasantly once more and she had to swallow hard against the nausea. "Is this Dornish strongwine?" She questioned, glancing up at the man. His hand hovered over the cups indecisively for a moment before picking one and placing one in front of Robb with a slightly shaking hand. "It smells sweeter than the Dornish reds I am used to."

"I – I am not certain, Your Grace," he answered, moving to her other side. She caught a strong scent of body sweat and perspiration as he moved and she frowned, wondering when her nose had become so sensitive.

She waved him off as he went to put a cup in front of her. "No wine for me, just a cup of water, please. I'm afraid I'm not feeling much of an appetite, tonight."

The man's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't move. "You don't want any wine?" He repeated as if he couldn't make sense of the words.

"Just water. Please," she told him. There was a smile on her face, but a hint of steel in her voice as the man continued to stare at her.

"Of course, Your Grace. I'll fetch your water," he mumbled at last, lowering his gaze and moving on to give a cup to Tyene and to Robb. As soon as the last cup was down, he went over to the small side table next to her and Robb's bed and poured a separate cup of water. After he placed it in front of her, he bowed respectfully and practically fled.

"What a strange boy," Tyene commented, eyebrow quirked in amusement. "Just barely a man and already in the presence of a King, a Queen and a Prince. I suppose it's enough to make anyone nervous."

"I thought the poor boy was going to piss himself," her uncle said, raising the cup of wine in front of his nose and swirling it, inhaling deeply.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright, Maliya?" He asked, leaning forward as his blue eyes watched her in concern. "It's not like you to miss a meal."

"I'm perfectly alright," she assured him, smiling. He had more than enough to worry about without adding her nausea to the list. Grabbing her cup of water, she raised it in the air, grinning proudly and changing the subject as she looked around the table. "To Robb and Uncle Oberyn!" She declared.

Tyene raised her own cup with a smile. "To the victory at the Crag!" She added, making Robb's eyes blaze with triumph as he reached for his cup to join with theirs.

"Stop!" Uncle Oberyn snapped, his voice cracking through the tent like a whip just before they went to drink. "Don't drink that!" They immediately froze at the authority and urgency in his voice, and three pairs of eyes looked to him in alarm. The expression on her uncle's face was grave and Maliya immediately knew that something was very wrong. He usually adopted a relaxed, somewhat carefree persona and there were very few occasions when she had seen him this serious. "Give me your cup," Uncle Oberyn said to Robb, holding out his hand expectantly.

"What is it, Prince Oberyn?" Robb questioned as he passed it over.

They all watched him raise the cup to his nose, swirling it slightly and inhaling. He held up a finger in response to Robb's question and slid both Robb's and his cup over to Tyene. "What do you smell?"

Meeting her father's gaze, Tyene smelled each of the cups separately before looking up once more with wide blue eyes. "This one smells sweet. Even sweeter than the strongwine."

Maliya shot a panicked glance at Robb before leaning forward. "Are you saying that someone tried to _poison_ Robb?"

"Sweetsleep," they announced at the same time, their voices resolute as they confirmed her suspicions.

Uncle Oberyn explained further, looking around at them all. "A few grains will calm a racing heart, a pinch will give you a deep, dreamless sleep, but three pinches or more will give you a painless death. This was a botched, amateur job. Sweetsleep smells and tastes sweet; generally undetectable in sweet foods or honeyed wine, but to someone who has an extensive background in poisons it was relatively easy to catch. Even still, if Maliya hadn't unconsciously caught on to the unnatural sweetness in this Dornish red, it might have been too late." His gaze met Robb's. "Someone is becoming very desperate to kill you, Your Grace."

Maliya sat there, stunned. If her uncle hadn't been here, if he hadn't thought to investigate the strange smell that she hadn't even thought twice about… Would the Lannisters really resort to an underhanded weapon such as poison in order to win this war?

Fury lit Robb's blue eyes as he rose from his chair, bracing his good hand against the table. "Guards!" He barked loudly, and the two men positioned outside the tent immediately stepped inside, standing at attention. "Someone has tried to kill me yet again, this time through poison," he informed them. The guards stiffened in shock, alarm on their faces when they realized yet another assassin had slipped right past them. "Round up the bannermen and inform them about what has happened. I want this camp searched and I want the men who stepped inside this tent tonight brought before me. Do it discreetly, I don't want to raise any unnecessary alarms. We are going to get to the bottom of this once and for all. I will lead – "

"Forgive me, Your Grace," Uncle Oberyn interrupted, rising as well. "But seeing as someone has just made yet another attempt on your life, it would probably be best if you stayed here. I will gather some of my best men to assist with the search and I would suggest posting two of your most trusted men outside your tent. No one comes in without your permission."

Robb stared down at the table for a moment before looking up and meeting their gazes. Maliya could see how much he hated to agree with her uncle, but he reluctantly nodded anyway. "Alright. Find the Smalljon and Dacey Mormont, they are among the most trusted of my guard. I shall stay here, but I want those men brought before me. I want to question them myself." Robb walked around the table and picked up the cup of poisoned wine, slowly upending it over the ground. "Dispose of the rest of the food and wine, I'm taking no chances."

"Of course, Your Grace," the guards responded, collecting the plates and cups and hurrying out of the tent.

"I shall keep you informed," her uncle told Robb, before putting a hand on Tyene's back and they swept out of the tent as well.

"Seven hells," Robb groaned, collapsing back in his chair and rubbing his hand wearily across his face. "I can rush headlong into battle, I can fight against several men at the same time… but poison? How am I supposed to fight against that? I know your uncle is well acquainted with poison, but in most of Westeros it is regarded with fear and loathing. It is a filthy, underhanded way to kill someone."

"Believe me, I don't share my uncle's affinity for poison. However, I don't think this attempt on your life was unrelated to the assassin in our tent. Perhaps you should think about acquiring a food taster."

Robb shook his head, looking frustrated. "How can I ask someone to risk their life by eating or drinking potentional poison that was supposed to be meant for me?"

"Because you are a King," Maliya responded firmly."And because thousands of men are looking to you to lead them to victory." Both her face and voice softened as she went over to kneel beside him, grabbing his good arm. "I know you have your father's sense of honor, Robb, but the rest of Westeros is not playing by the same rules." Maliya found herself pleading with him as Stannis' words echoed in her ear. _Lord Eddard's integrity cost him his head._

Robb's blue eyes met hers and Maliya saw Lord Stark staring back at her. "I have to be able to live with the choices that I make, Maliya. I have to stand by what is right."

"Sometimes, there's the right choice or the things you have to do to survive," Maliya murmured, thinking back on her own decisions. "Sometimes you have to go against what you know is right in order to protect the people that you love." She noticed Robb's puzzled look and shook her head to clear her thoughts, managing to put a small smile on her face. "Just – keep that in the back of your mind, alright? Good, honorable people like – " she broke off mid-sentence as Robb looked away from her, his jaw working. "They don't survive against enemies that will do whatever is necessary to win."

"Your Grace." Both Robb and Maliya looked around as Dacey Mormont held the tent flap aside and looked through. "We found them."

"Already?" Robb frowned, standing from the chair and walking over to exit the tent. "It hasn't even been ten minutes."

Maliya trailed after him. When they walked outside, Uncle Oberyn was leading several of his men toward them. The expression on everyone's faces was grim and the very air surrounding them was dark and full of unease. Her eyes fell on what her uncle's men were carrying between them and realized that it was two limp bodies. They were dropped at their feet and bile rose once more in Maliya's throat as she stared into their wide, dead eyes, a bloody red slash across their throats.

"We found them thrown in one of the supply tents," Uncle Oberyn explained at the stormy look on Robb's face. "This was a rushed, careless job. These men were only pawns, easily disposable."

Maliya's attention was diverted as Grey Wind trotted over to them, lured by the scent of blood. He sniffed around the bodies for a moment, licking a bit of the blood before turning to Robb and sitting by his side.

"So we still have no idea who has been ordering these attacks," Maliya muttered, crossing her arms over her stomach and holding her elbows. Her eyes drifted over to stare at her husbands back and a worried frown crossed her face as helplessness flooded her once more. Someone was desperately trying to kill him and all Maliya wanted to do was keep him in his tent, surrounded by his most trusted warriors so that nobody could get close to him. She knew him though, and knew that it was not something that he would ever agree to, because she wouldn't agree to it either.

"Double the patrols around the camp," Robb ordered, looking at Smalljon Umber. "And find someone to dispose of these bodies." He turned to Dacey and she stood at attention. "Find Ser Wendel Manderly and Patrek Mallister. Create a guard rotation for the night. We leave at first light."

The others nodded at his words and Robb swept back inside the tent with Grey Wind as everyone dispersed. The Smalljon had guards drag the bodies away and soon all that was left was Uncle Oberyn and herself, not counting the two previous guards who resumed their post until Dacey returned.

"It's been a long night," he said quietly, moving to stand in front of her. "You should get some rest. I'm going to post some of my own men around the camp and around your tent. I understand that Robb doesn't know or trust my men, but I am taking no chances when your life is at risk as well."

"Thank you, uncle," she whispered, closing her eyes briefly as her uncle put a hand on her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you in the morning."

She sent him a shaky smile before going back inside the tent. Her eyes swept inside, noticing Grey Wind lying on the ground by the foot of the bed and landing on Robb, who was struggling to undo the laces of his shirt one handed, wincing every time his movements jostled his injured shoulder. She slowly went up to him, carefully brushing his hand and taking over to untie the hopeless knot that he had created. She could feel his gaze on her but she kept her focus on the laces.

Her throat was burning and she was just barely keeping her tumultuous emotions in check. Unfortunately, she was fighting a losing battle because the laces began to blur as her eyes filled with tears and before she knew it one of them escaped, sliding down her cheek. "Damn it," she breathed, her voice trembling with fear and frustration.

"Maliya," Robb murmured softly, but she shook her head.

Clearing her throat, she blinked away the tears and finally undid the knot, pulling the rest of the laces free. Carefully, she peeled it back, exposing his chest before slowly pulling it down his arms. He hissed out a breath as his injured arm was jostled again. The shirt was tossed somewhere behind them and Maliya's eyes were drawn to his bandaged shoulder. There was a slight red stain in the middle of it, and Maliya felt as if she had been punched in the stomach when she saw how close the arrow came to his heart.

The tears came unbidden, spilling down her cheeks. "I can't lose you, Robb," she whispered as fear seized her heart once more. "I don't – I can't – " Words failed her at the bleak, hopeless life she would have without Robb and shook her head frantically as panic filled her.

Robb gently put a knuckle under Maliya's chin and lifted her gaze to meet his. Keeping his blue eyes on her, his hand drifted down to grab her hand and place it on his heart. "Feel that?" He asked. Her eyes fluttered closed as she focused on the strong, steady beat of his heart against her hand. "I'm alive, Maliya. I'm alive and I am right here."

Her hand still on his heart, she opened her eyes and raised herself on her tiptoes to press her lips against his. It was slightly salty with her tears, but it was a kiss of love and of comfort and Maliya drew as much strength from that as she could. Conscious of his injury, she didn't deepen the kiss, though everything inside her wanted to. She wanted to lose herself in him totally and completely, but instead she reluctantly pulled away. His good hand smoothed down her hair as her arms slid around his waist and they held each other tightly. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered in her ear. "I promise."

* * *

Maliya felt the bone deep exhaustion in her body and yet she couldn't sleep. She lay there, curled up against Robb's uninjured side as he slumbered peacefully. Maliya, on the other hand, was being tormented by all of her secrets. _The letter, the egg, her identity, the attempted assassinations…_ it was all too much. Too much guilt, too much pain, too much fear and uncertainty. Her stomach was twisted in knots and there was a heavy weight pressed against her chest that kept pressing down until she felt as if she couldn't breathe.

Raising herself up on one elbow, she looked down at her handsome, sleeping husband. Overcome with the urge to say something, to apologize for everything, Maliya began to speak – and once she started she just couldn't stop. "I'm sorry," she breathed, so softly that even she could barely hear her words. "I'm sorry for lying to you about my past and I'm sorry for everything else that I haven't told you since. I wish that I could tell you, Robb, I want to tell you more than anything, but I… I'm afraid of what will happen after. I'm afraid you won't understand. I'm afraid that the truth about me will put you and your family in even more danger than you are now. I've never been so afraid," she confessed, unable to resist reaching out to brush away Robb's curls from his forehead. He grumbled a sigh, turning his face into her hand and her heart damn near broke. "I wasn't supposed to feel like this. I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you." Her eyes softened. "And yet… it was the best thing that ever happened to me and I'll never regret it."

After a moment she settled back against Robb's side, feeling only marginally better as she wrapped a protective arm around his waist. Her eyes drifted closed and she finally fell into a fitful sleep. Of course, however, not even her dreams could be peaceful.

It was a strange sort of dream, the kind where she knew she was dreaming. The flashes that she saw were familiar in the way that she realized she had had this sort of dream before. The images would flash in her mind so fast that she could just barely recognize what they were before they were gone.

 _A ship with a plain, black sail. An ear piercing that looked like the tooth of some animal. A tattoo of a black dragon with it's tail coiled around an arm. And finally, a gate with a strange looking statue – the torso was that of a woman, but her arms were the wings of a bat, she had a scorpion's tail and her legs were that of an eagle and in the talons she was holding a chain with open manacles at either end._

* * *

 **Author's Note: Everything is building for Maliya – her uncle pushing her to reveal her identity and all the guilt and fear that she feels, and soon enough, something will break. I know that a few of you are impatient with the pacing of this story, but if things are revealed too quickly it won't have the same impact. I'm invested in this story for the long haul and I want to take my time and do it correctly, the way that I have planned.**

 **Next chapter: The last one in season 2! Maliya learns some shocking news, Tyene finds out the truth, Theon makes a difficult choice, and Tywin returns to King's Landing.**

 **Please take a moment to leave a review :)**

Charlie: Thanks for reviewing, I'm so glad you liked the chapter! I'm glad you're liking the twist on Theon's story, I've been worried about that story line in particular. Hope you like this update!

Rusty 14: Thank you for your review! As for revealing her secrets…. The guilt is beginning to eat away at her so we'll have to wait and see what happens!

Guest 2: I'm so glad you like the long chapters haha I can't seem to help myself, they seem to get longer and longer each time. Yes, she stopped taking the moon tea! Did you notice anything special in this chapter?

Vhy: Glad you liked the chapter! I work on these chapters as much as I can, but real life takes precedence sometimes as I'm sure you can understand.

Alina: Thank you for your review! Maliya and Robb have a special place in my heart! I remember in the beginning of the story I used to struggle writing scenes between them and now it comes so easily. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last!


	23. Unexpected Loss

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed, both those of you who have been here since the beginning and those that are stumbling across my story for the first time! I cannot believe I'm almost at 600 reviews, over 900 follows and 700 favorites. You are all amazing :)**

 **Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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Chapter 23: Unexpected Loss

 **Robb's POV**

"That direwolf of yours is quite a magnificent beast," Prince Oberyn complimented as he walked up to where the King was overseeing the deconstruction of the camp. "Maliya mentioned that there was one pup for each of the Stark children. It sort of makes you believe in fate, does it not?"

"It certainly felt like fate," Robb responded, turning to watch the older man approach, envious of his fluid, tiger-like grace. Robb put a hand on Grey Wind's head and petted him fondly. "He's incredibly intelligent and loyal and he's saved my life on more than one occasion. Even now, he hasn't left my side since the poisoning attempt."

"How are you handling all that?" Prince Oberyn asked, hands clasped behind his back. Robb was slightly surprised to hear the note of concern in his voice. "That's two unsuccessful attempts on your life now, Your Grace, and it probably won't be the last."

"I'm alright," Robb reassured him, straightening his shoulders to prove his point. "I'd rather have someone try to kill me out in the open, of course, so I wouldn't have to constantly look over my shoulder." He glanced over at Prince Oberyn. "I've noticed the Dornish guards that have been patrolling the camp and our tent and I just wanted to thank you for your guidance and your assistance since you've been here. It means a lot to me – to us," he amended, his eyebrows creasing as he thought of his wife. She had still been sleeping when he had risen this morning, but it hadn't looked like a restful sleep. There had been a frown tugging at her lips and he could see her eyes flickering restlessly underneath her eyelids.

"What is it, Your Grace?" Prince Oberyn prodded quietly, picking up on his change of mood.

Robb glanced around at his men hustling around him, folding up the tents and packing up the supplies back into the wagons. Then he glanced over his shoulder to where his guards were standing, never too far away. "Come," Robb said, putting one hand on Oberyn's back and gesturing with the other. "Let us talk somewhere more privately. The command tent is still standing, I believe."

"Now, what is bothering you?" Prince Oberyn asked when they were safely seated at the table and away from prying eyes and ears. "We may not know each other very well, Your Grace, but I've always believed that you learn a lot about someone by fighting alongside them. We are family through your marriage to Maliya, and I want you to know that you can speak with me about anything that you wish."

"I appreciate that," Robb nodded, falling silent and softly drumming his fingers on the table. Should he share his concerns with the Dornish Prince? While it was true the man was slightly unstable and unpredicatable, he was also Maliya's uncle and might be able to offer some insight and advice. "It's Maliya," he began after a moment. He remembered her terrified, tear stricken face last night as she practically broke in front of him. "She's been acting strange lately and I'm beginning to worry about her. Have you noticed anything different about her since you've been here?"

Prince Oberyn gave him a small smile. "It's been a little over a year since I've seen my niece. In some aspects she's the same girl I've always known but in other ways she's completely different. She's a wife now, a queen of a kingdom and she's found herself in the middle of a war. Maliya… she's always taken a lot of responsibility on her thin shoulders, even when she was no more than a child." His smile faded and there was a lost, faraway look in the Red Viper's dark eyes. "Heavy lies the crown," he murmured, before his expression cleared. "If something's bothering Maliya, I'm sure she will tell you in her own time. She's stubborn and hard-headed, that girl, but she'll get there eventually."

Robb nodded slowly, still frowning. Was something bothering Maliya? If so, then why was she keeping it from him? Didn't she know that she could tell him anything? A horrible thought struck him. What if she didn't trust him enough to share what was on her mind?

Prince Oberyn leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he watched the emotions play across Robb's face. "If it makes you feel any better, Your Grace, I know that my niece loves you. I can practically feel her worry for you and when she speaks of you, she gets this look in her eye that I've never seen before. She's even seems to have given up fighting, which I know she considers a large part of her identity. I never believed she would do that for anyone…. Until you."

Robb's frown deepened. Prince Oberyn didn't approve of or agree with Maliya's decision to stop fighting, that much was painfully clear. Robb felt his stomach twist unpleasantly as uncertainty and confusion flickered through him yet again. He didn't know what the right decision was in regards to Maliya going into battle. All he knew was that he didn't want to fight with his wife anymore. "You don't agree?" He asked lightly, trying to appear casual.

"Maliya has been and always will be a fighter, it's ingrained into her personality. And I don't just mean with a sword, either. She'll stand up for what she believes is right, like that situation with your bastard brother around the time of your wedding. Maliya is a survivor," he announced, smirking proudly. "As for this situation about fighting in the war, that is none of my business. Although I'm sure you can guess what my opinion would be."

"Your Grace," Smalljon Umber called gruffly from outside the tent. "There's a rider here from the main camp. He says he has urgent news and will only speak with you."

Suddenly filled with a strong sense of trepidation, Robb rose to his feet as a young man entered the tent, his hair windblown and his cheeks red from exhaustion. "Your Grace," he bowed. His eyes flickered over to Prince Oberyn, who hadn't moved from where he was seated and he hesitated.

"Speak freely," Robb instructed him. From his expression he knew no one would be able to tell that just moments ago he had been terribly worried about his wife. They wouldn't see Robb Stark the husband, they would see Robb Stark, the Young Wolf and King in the North. "What news do you have?"

The rider swallowed harshly, looking back at Robb. "It's the Kingslayer, Your Grace. He's escaped."

"What?" Robb's voice echoed sharply throughout the tent. His expression was thunderous as he felt the fury rushing through him and he had to resist the urge to slam his fist down on the table. Conscious of Prince Oberyn's gaze on him, Robb restrained himself, every muscle in his body taut and tensed. "How did this happen?" The rider paled considerably, glancing away from Robb and looking like he would rather be anywhere else but here. "How?" Robb repeated, his voice loud and commanding.

"It – it was your mother."

For a long moment, there was silence in the tent as Robb struggled to make sense of the words. _His mother._ When the words finally registered, it came with an overwhelming sense of betrayal and confusion and Robb felt like he had been punched in the stomach. His _mother._ "Smalljon," Robb barked, blue eyes flashing. "Spread the word," he ordered when the other man stepped inside the tent. "I want this camp packed up and ready to go within the hour. We need to get back as soon as possible."

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

Maliya shifted uncomfortably in Shadow's saddle, shifting her grip on the reins. She felt absolutely terrible – her body ached from exhaustion, her eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep and her stomach felt absolutely hollow and empty. Robb had barged into their tent earlier this morning while she was dressing, practically radiating fury. He barely looked at her as he informed her that his mother had released the Kingslayer and they were leaving immediately.

The camp had been in organized chaos when she finished packing her things and she found Robb at the center of it all, directing his men. The news about his mother appeared to have hit him hard. His expression was completely closed off and his icy blue eyes held none of the love and warmth that she was accustomed to. She worried from afar, however, giving Robb some space to work through or avoid his feelings until they returned to talk to his mother.

She herself was dealing with two very strong emotions of her own. The first included anger and the second bitter disappointment – anger on behalf of Lady Stark's betrayal and disappointment that she hadn't gotten a chance to further talk with the Kingslayer. He was one of the few people who knew her when she was Rhaenys Targaryen and who knew what her grandfather was really like. And now she had lost her chance. Would she ever learn the truth?

"Are you alright, Maliya?" Tyene asked in concern as she rode up next to her, her blue eyes scanning her face carefully. "No offense meant, cousin, but you look terrible."

"I… don't know," Maliya answered her truthfully, looking away from Robb's back, where he was riding several yards in front of her. "I just can't believe that Lady Stark could do something so reckless."

"Can't you?" Tyene asked, shrugging. "Mothers will do crazy things because of their children. I mean, yours -" She broke off immediately, sending Maliya a horrified look. "Gods, Maliya, I didn't mean – "

"It's alright," Maliya reassured her quickly. She barely remembered Mellario – she wasn't her real mother and she didn't mean anything to her at all. The only feeling she had towards Mellario was anger at the pain that she caused Arianne, Quentyn and Trystane by leaving. "You can say it. My mother was furious at my father because he sent Quentyn to be fostered at the Yronwoods and she ended up abandoning the rest of us for it. If Lady Stark released the Kingslayer because of Arya and Sansa, at least she was attempting to save her children, no matter how misguided and potentially damaging her actions were."

"I suppose we will find out her reasons soon enough," Tyene muttered, nodding ahead of them. "There's the camp now."

Riders from the camp came out to meet them, spotting the Stark banners and calling out to their King. Maliya couldn't help but notice how grim their faces were as their force stopped at the edge of the large camp. Still atop his horse, Robb looked back, searching, and Maliya knew that he was looking for her. She murmured a goodbye to Tyene and pressed her heels into Shadow's side, trotting forward until she was next to him.

He looked away from her, his face still a blank mask and dismounted from his horse, his hand held out to help her down from hers.

Rickard Karstark approached them, a hand on his sword and his entire being radiating his extreme displeasure. Staring up into the older man's face, Maliya reminded herself that he had lost two sons because of Jaime Lannister, so he had every reason to be upset with his disappearance. "Your Grace. My Queen," he greeted gruffly, bowing to them both.

"Where is she?" Robb asked in a cold voice, wasting no time.

"In her tent," Karstark growled. "I'll bring you to her."

Robb followed after Karstark and Maliya trailed by his side, glancing up at her husband as she tried to gauge his mood. She was becoming increasingly worried about how distant he seemed, though she couldn't fault him for it. She couldn't even imagine what it must feel like to know that your mother betrayed not only you but everything you've been working for.

Guards were posted outside Lady Stark's tent when they stepped inside, Karstark staying back by the entrance of the tent. "Tell me this isn't true," Robb began, clenching his fists by his sides. "Tell me that you didn't release Jaime Lannister, our most valuable hostage in this war." Lady Stark looked up at him from where she was seated at her desk. Her eyes were red and her face was almost ashen – she looked several years older than the last time Maliya had seen her and it was more than apparent that Lady Stark was guilty. "Why?" Robb asked in a heavy voice.

"For the girls," she explained, eyes wide and pleading when she saw the look on Robb's face. "Robb, please, you must understand – "

"What I understand is that you betrayed me!" Robb snapped, causing his mother to shrink back slightly at the fury in his voice. "I know that you did what you did for love of Arya and Sansa, but did you even, for one second, think about the position that you have put me in? We are in the middle of a war, mother, and your actions have weakened us! Not to mention the uproar this is going to cause with my bannermen."

"I know we are in the middle of a war," Lady Stark retorted, her own blue eyes growing angry. "Bran and Rickon are captives in Winterfell, held by our very own ward. Arya and Sansa are captives in King's Landing, surrounded by people who want our family dead. I have five children," Lady Stark's voice broke at these words and Maliya actually felt a pang of sympathy for what she was going through. "Only one of them is free."

Lord Karstark stepped forward, his tall presence causing a darkness in the tent. "I lost one son fighting by your son's side. I lose another to the Kingslayer, strangled with a chain. You commit treason because your children are prisoners?" He asked, obviously struggling to retain his temper and keep his voice level. "I would carve out my heart and offer it to the Father, if he would let my sons wake from their graves and step into a prison cell."

Lady Stark's eyes flickered with guilt. "I grieve for your sons, my lord – "

"I don't want your grief," he spat. "I want my vengeance and you stole it from me."

She took a deep breath. "Killing Jaime Lannister would not buy life for your children, but returning

him to King's Landing may buy life for mine."

Lord Karstark was practically vibrating with rage and Robb seemed to sense this as well. "I'll take it from here, my lord," Robb said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Meet me at the command tent shortly." He stormed out of the tent without another word and Lady Stark resumed speaking almost at once.

"After the Kingslayers escape attempt, there was no way that he would have lived through the night. If he had died, then any chance at seeing my girls again would have died along with him."

"My lady," Maliya spoke up for the first time, gentling her voice slightly, a sharp contrast to both Robb and Lord Karstark's. "You can't possibly believe the Lannisters will honor this deal. A prisoner exhange isn't typically one sided, you have no guarantee that they won't back out. You just sent the Kingslayer back to King's Landing and now they have him, Arya and Sansa."

"Brienne is with the Kingslayer, she will make sure – "

"The Lannisters could kill her the moment she steps foot in King's Landing," Robb pointed out. "It would be her against the entire city."

"Tyrion Lannister gave me his word at the Vale," Catelyn told them. "And the Kingslayer gave me his word as well – don't give me that look, I am very well aware of the risk that I took in freeing him, but I had to do _something_."

Robb shook his head, the fight leaving him with a sigh. Now he just looked tired and disappointed. "Well, you've done something, mother. And now I'm not sure if I can ever trust you again." Clenching his jaw, he turned away from her as if he couldn't stand the sight of her anymore. "I want her guarded day and night," they heard Robb order the guards as he left. "She doesn't leave here without my permission."

"Robb!" Lady Stark cried in despair, lurching off her chair, but he was already gone. Maliya shifted uncomfortably at the absolute devastation on her good-mother's face. Wrapping her arms around her middle, Lady Stark turned away from her. She didn't say anything for a long moment and Maliya was just about to leave when she spoke. "Until you have spent nine moons creating your children and painful hours birthing them you cannot possibly understand. Until you have wiped every tear, sat by their sick bed and celebrated every triumph, no matter how big or small, you cannot possibly understand what it is to be a mother. I would do anything, absolutely anything to protect my children. You couldn't possibly understand," she whispered again.

Lady Stark was absolutely right. Maliya wasn't a mother. A frown crossed her face and doubt entered her mind once more. Did she want to be a mother if it meant making reckless decisions like this one?

Maliya didn't know what to say. Nothing she said could make the older woman feel better and Maliya couldn't condone her actions. So, feeling conflicted and confused, Maliya silently left the tent, leaving Lady Stark to her thoughts.

She found Dacey Mormont waiting for her outside. There was a conflicted expression on the tall, pretty woman's face as Maliya approached her. "Where has he gone?" Maliya asked her quietly.

"He was headed towards the command tent," Lady Dacey said, trailing after her when Maliya started in that direction. "Is Lady Stark alright?"

"Physically, she's fine," Maliya answered over her shoulder. "For now, at least. There are a lot of people who are very angry with what she did."

Lady Dacey gave an unlady-like snort. "That's an understatement. The enire camp is in an uproar! Although…" She paused for a moment. "When my lady mother found out what happened, she told me that she would have done the same thing if her children were the ones in danger."

"Yes," Maliya murmured. "I've been told that most mothers would do anything to protect their children." _My mother was never given the chance to protect my brother and I._ "If you'll excuse me, my lady," she said, nodding to the guards who stood outside the command tent and slipping inside.

Robb was in the tent with Grey Wind, hunched over the map of Westeros, both hands braced on the table. "Robb?" His head snapped up at the sound of her voice, and her heart dropped in her chest at the hurt, lost expression in his blue eyes.

"She betrayed me," Robb choked out, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Grey Wind must have felt Robb's agitation because he let out a low growl and began pacing back and forth. "My own mother went behind my back and committed treason." Maliya approached him slowly, reaching out to put a hand on his arm in some small form of comfort. He twitched at her touch, but didn't shrug her off. "Does she really believe that I don't want Sansa and Arya back? They're my family, my sister's, of course I want them returned to us safe and unharmed. But the Lannisters can't be trusted – why can't she see that?"

"Your mother knows how much you love your sisters, Robb," Maliya told him fiercely, grabbing his arms and spinning him around to face her. "Look at me," she urged, putting her hands on either side of his face and forcing their gazes to meet. "Your mother was doing just doing what she thought was right. She's made a mistake, Robb, but we will find the Kingslayer, he can't have gotten that far. We can fix this, we just have to stay strong."

Robb's eyes closed at her words and he let out a shaky sigh. "You're right," he whispered, holding onto her wrists and opening his eyes once more. "I've already sent forty of our best men in addition to the forty that they sent earlier. We'll find him." The corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes softened, looking more like the husband that she knew and loved. "Thank you, Maliya. I am so grateful to have you here by my side – at least I know that I can always count on you no matter what. You might be the only person I can trust anymore," he said, smiling softly, rubbing his thumbs along the back of her hands.

Maliya looked up into his twinkling blue eyes, and bit the inside of her cheek so hard that she drew blood as the ever present guilt slammed into her once more. She glanced away from his trusting face, feeling like she was going to hurl. The "only person he could trust" was keeping more secrets from him than the rest combined. Seven hells. Robb deserved better than this, deserved better than her.

Speaking quickly, before she could come to her senses and think about what she was doing, Maliya pulled her hands away from him and took a step back. "Robb, there's something that I have to tell – "

At that moment, one of the guards pulled the tent flap aside. "Your Grace? Lord Karstark is here to see you."

Robb sent her an inquisitive look, but she just shook her head, both relieved and disappointed that she was interrupted. "It's alright, we'll speak later. You have a bannerman to placate." Still barely able to look him in the eye, she reached up to press a kiss to his cheek before sweeping out of the tent. She was a terrible person. The Stranger was going to take her to a special kind of hell.

* * *

Having finished dressing for the morning, Maliya pulled her hair over one shoulder and began absentmindedly braiding it. Over the past fortnight or so, hostile tensions within the camp have diminished since Lady Stark released the Kingslayer, but now Robb was dealing with a whole new problem. The morale of the northern army was almost nonexistent of late and poor Robb was worrying that they were losing faith in their cause. He stayed up late with his advisors and rose early the next morning to personally make an appearance to his men as he worked to come up with a solution.

Another uncomfortable cramp went through Maliya's stomach after she had finished tying a ribbon around her hair. Making a disgruntled face, one hand dropped to rub her stomach with a sigh. She had gotten her moon's blood several days ago, some spotting in the beginning and now it was heavier with some cramping, but her body seemed determined to make sure she felt the pain before the week was over.

"Prince Oberyn is here to see you, Your Grace," the guard called from outside the tent.

"Send him in! Tyene Sand will be coming as well, so you can send her in when she arrives," Maliya told the guards, dropping her hand from her stomach and turning to face her uncle.

"Morning, my beautiful niece," her uncle greeted as he entered the tent, heading towards her to press a kiss to her cheek.

"You're early," she stated with a smile, heading for the table where breakfast was already set up. "Where's Tyene?" With Robb so busy of late, she had been breaking her fast with her uncle and her cousin, wanting to spend as much time with them as possible to make up for the past year when they had all been separated.

"She will be along shortly." He picked up an apple from the table and tossed it back and forth between his hands for a moment, studying her. "Are you alright, Maliya? You haven't seemed like yourself these past couple of days."

"I haven't been sleeping well," Maliya admitted wearily, plopping into a chair and reaching over to pop a cherry into her mouth. "I've been having this strange dream every night."

Uncle Oberyn frowned at her. "What kind of dream?"

Maliya shrugged. "It's odd, really, one of those dreams where I'm aware that I'm dreaming. I get these weird flashes that always happen in the same order. A large ship with a black sail, an ear piercing with a tooth hanging from it, and a black dragon drawn across someone's skin. Then at the end there's some weird creature. She has a woman's upper body, wings for arms, a tail and an eagles legs."

There was an odd expression on her uncle's face. "Was she by any chance sitting on top of a gate?"

"How did you know that?" Maliya asked with wide eyes, completely taken aback.

"The creature that you described is called a harpy. It's the emblem of Astapor and one sits atop the gate to enter the city. I saw it with my own eyes during my travels across the seas."

"Why would I be dreaming of the gate to Astapor?" Maliya asked, bewildered, shaking her head. Her uncle shrugged. "What else can you tell about it?"

Maliya watched and listened carefully as his expression darkened. "Astapor is one of the old Slaver Cities, also called the Red City for the red dust that is always blowing up and down the streets. The first thing you see when you enter the city is the Plaza of Punishment, where they display the slaves that have been punished or executed. The main entertainment is the fighting pits, where they sometimes put girls against bulls or roll boys in honey and bet to see which one the bear will eat first. The worst part, however, is their army of slaves called the Unsullied. At a young age the boys are taken, made into eunuchs, and brutally trained. It is said that they feel no pain and their obedience is unquestionable."

"That's practically barbaric," she gasped, feeling absolutely sickened on behalf of those poor slaves. "Why in the name of the Seven am I having dreams about such a place?"

"I couldn't say," her uncle answered, taking a large bit of his apple. "But it isn't something I would forget about. It might be that you're having these dreams for a reason, one that won't be made apparent to you until the time is right." He looked over at her again, giving her a look that made her stomach turn in apprehension. "Speaking of which," he began lightly. "Have you given any more thought about telling Robb who you really are?"

"I have," Maliya answered just as casually, busying herself with taking a sip of water, hiding another wince as a sharp cramp went through her. "I'm not sure it's the right time, uncle. Robb is so busy fighting this war, making sure his own men don't turn on each other, managing his mother and now trying to keep everyone positive and on task. I'm afraid if he hears one more piece of bad news that he's just going to crumble under the pressure."

Uncle Oberyn gave her a pointed look. "Robb is a King, Maliya, he's always going to have an abnormal amount of pressure on his young shoulders. And you're going to be waiting until you're old and gray if you're looking for a good time to tell him the truth. I'm not so sure there is a good time to tell him something like this."

"I almost told him once, when we returned from the Crag," Maliya admitted, rolling a berry between her fingers. "I was just going to blurt it all out like a moron, but luckily we were interrupted." She looked up at him, a lost expression in her brown eyes. "How do I even begin to start a conversation like that?"

"Why don't you practice?" Her uncle suggested. "You can tell Tyene first – "

Maliya's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. "Tell Tyene?" She repeated as if the words were foreign to her. "I can't tell Tyene – "

"Tell Tyene what?" The blonde asked, a wide smile on her face as she entered the tent, her blue eyes looking between the two of them. Both Maliya and her uncle froze, completely caught off guard and immediately alerting the other girl that whatever they had been talking about was incredibly important. Maliya's heart broke out into an anxious sprint as she watched her cousin's smile fade and a suspicious frown cross her face, her eyes narrowing into a glare that reminded her so much of her uncle. "Tell me what?"

Maliya shot a look full of fury and frustration to her uncle as Tyene put her hands on her hips. She knew that look on her cousins' face – she was not going to let this go until she had the truth. Her uncle had just unknowingly backed her into a corner and now Maliya was going to be forced to tell Tyene the truth about who she really was, something Maliya was completely unprepared for. Her body broke out into a cold sweat, complete with clammy hands and a rapidly beating heart as Maliya forced herself to take a deep breath. Rising from her chair, putting one hand on the table to hide how off balance she felt, Maliya looked at her uncle, her face blank as she desperately tried to hide her terror. "Uncle, would you please leave Tyene and I to talk?"

Guilt twisted her uncle's handsome features. "Maliya, I – "

She held up a hand, stopping him. "We'll speak about this later."

Nodding in defeat, her uncle stood and looked at both his daughter and his niece one more time before he left. "What is going on, Maliya?" Tyene asked, worry now appearing in her eyes. "What does my father know that I do not?"

"You should sit," Maliya said, gesturing to the bed on her right. Tyene hesitated, but did as she was told. Her blue eyes were larger than usual and with her blonde hair, Tyene looked several years younger than she really was. "Now, I need you to give me your word that you will not share what I am about to tell you with anyone. It's a matter of life and death and I don't want anyone to find out unless I am the one telling them."

"Maliya – "

"Promise me, Tyene," Maliya interrupted in a cold voice, brown eyes flashing. "Swear it on the old gods and the new."

"I swear it," Tyene promised quickly, now looking thoroughly alarmed.

"Good," Maliya nodded, beginning to pace now as she quickly tried to figure out what she was going to say and how she was going to say it. "Don't interrupt me either, I've never actually said this out loud to anyone before." She waited until Tyene nodded again before taking a deep breath. "Maliya Martell isn't my real name and Doran Martell is not my father." A smile actually began to cross Tyene's face, as if she figured that Maliya was joking. Maliya continued on before she could speak. "My real parents were Elia Martell… and Rhaegar Targaryen."

Tyene froze, her mouth parting in disbelief. "That's not possible…."

"My true name is Rhaenys," Maliya went on, ignoring Tyene and needing to get it all out before she stopped and lost her nerve. The speed of her pacing increased now, as the words kept coming faster and faster. "I was three when the Usurper and the Lannisters took King's Landing. Someone saved me, someone smuggled me out of the city and brought me to Dorne. Father – Doran – he came up with the story about how I was kept away from everyone because of a sickness and he took me into his family, raised me as one of his children." Her eyes now had a faraway look to them. "Both Doran and Uncle Oberyn told me to keep Rhaenys Targaryen hidden away ever since I could talk. I was now Maliya Martell and it had to stay that way, because if anyone ever found out who I really was, they would be in terrible danger." She stopped pacing and finally looked at Tyene. "I've never told anyone before. Only myself, Doran, Uncle Oberyn, Lord Stark and whoever smuggled me out of King's Landing know who I really am."

Tyene was frowning down at her clasped hands in her lap, her brow furrowed. Long, dragging seconds went by as Maliya anxiously waited for Tyene to say something – anything. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she looked up at her, and Maliya's breath whooshed out of her at the look of absolute hurt and betrayal in her cousin's eyes.

 _No, no, no, no, no,_ a voice in Maliya's head began to chant.

"You've… lied to us?" Tyene asked in a small voice, tilting her head to the side as if she couldn't understand it. "For six and ten years?"

"For my survival and your protection," Maliya explained in a slightly shaky voice, wanting – no needing her to understand. "If Robert Baratheon ever learned that there was a Targaryen still out there, he would have killed me and whoever else was trying to hide me."

Maliya felt like Tyene's blue eyes could see straight through her. "If I hadn't walked in on that conversation between you and my father, would you have told me the truth?" Maliya's mouth open and closed several times, completely at a loss for words. For Tyene, however, her silence seemed to be answer enough. "Right," Tyene murmured, nodding absently. "Right. I need some air."

"Tyene," Maliya blurted quickly, stepping forward as she stood. "Please try to understand – "

"Oh, I understand completely," Tyene snapped, some life coming back into her voice. "I understand your reasons for keeping your secret, Maliya – Rhaenys – whoever you are, but that doesn't change the fact that you still lied."

Maliya's anxiety levels increased at the anger in her voice, and her heart fluttered in panic. _No, no, no. This was why I told Uncle Oberyn I didn't want to reveal the truth, now I'm going to lose her._ "Tyene, please. I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you, I just – " She broke off with a small cry as a piercing pain shot through her stomach, causing her to hunch over.

Tyene was at her side in an instant, one hand supporting her elbow and the other on her back. "What is it?" She demanded, eyes moving frantically over Maliya's face. "What's wrong?"

Holding her breath, Maliya cautiously straightened, one hand still resting lightly on her stomach. She waited for a moment or two but the cramps had faded to a dull ache. "Nothing, I think I'm alright," Maliya reassured her. "It's just my moon's blood, the cramps seem to be stronger this month, that's all."

"Why don't you lie down?" Tyene suggested, though she didn't look convinced. "That always seems to help me."

Maliya did as she said, curling up on her side and tucking her legs up to her chest. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, hoping that these multiple, day long cramps were not going to become a regular occurrence. Feeling the bed dip a little, her eyes shot open to see Tyene sitting next to her. "You're not leaving?" Maliya asked without thinking, not wanting her to leave.

"I may be furious with you, Maliya, but I'm not going to leave you when you're in pain," Tyene responded, sounding slightly offended that Maliya would even think such a thing. They both fell silent again and Maliya winced as another pain shot through her. "Do you…. Do you remember anything from when you were Rhaenys? From before you came to Dorne?"

Maliya rolled over onto her back, staring up at the top of the tent. "Not really anything substantial," Maliya told her slowly, frowning as she tried to think back. "The smell of my mother's perfume, the feel of my father's hand in mine and the color of Aegon's purple eyes." She swallowed the lump of sadness in her throat. "I don't remember who smuggled me out of King's Landing, but I can still remember the rocking of the boat and the smell of the sea. I wish… " She trailed off, a small furrow appearing between her brows as the cramps grew in intensity once more.

"Maliya?" Tyene questioned, leaning forward slightly.

Groaning, Maliya's hand unconsciously shot out to grip Tyene's arm, fingernails digging in as the pain grew tenfold. "Oh Gods," she choked out, eyes squeezed tightly shut, curling into the fetal position once more. "Something's wrong."

A pale looking Tyene was kneeling over her, one arm firmly in Maliya's grip but the other was frantically pushing Maliya's hair away from her face, trying to figure out what was wrong. "C'mon, Maliya, talk to me – what's happening? Should I get Robb or a healer?" Maliya went to answer but was slammed again by another round of pain. It was the most intense, sharpest cramp yet and Maliya held her breath through the whole thing, biting back another cry of pain. It was over after a long moment, and her body relaxed, panting. "Maliya?"

Maliya's brown eyes slowly met hers, wide and horrified. Sitting up, Maliya threw back the sheets and Tyene let out an impressive string of curses. Blood was soaking through her dress and onto the sheets. Maliya just stared at it for a long moment, her brain not registering what she was seeing.

"This is not a normal amount of blood," Tyene said in a hushed whisper, her voice sounding strange. "Maliya…. when was the last time you had your moon's blood?"

Maliya frowned, looking at her blankly. "I – it was – " Realization dawned on her a moment later, bringing with it a terrifying combination of shame, guilt, horror and fear. "I need to get out of this dress," she told Tyene, sounding calm despite the storm raging on inside of her. "Help me change these sheets, and please don't argue with me right now, Tyene," she said quickly, when her cousin opened her mouth to interject.

Tyene did as she was told as Maliya slipped out of the bed, grabbing the necessary clothes and heading behind the changing screen. She tried not to acknowledge her trembling hands as her fingers unlaced the ties of her dress. She tried not to notice the aching in her chest as she pulled it off or her shallow breathing when she reached her small clothes. But then it was impossible to ignore the tears streaming steadily down her face when she looked down and saw the bean sized, white-ish gray tissue amongst the blood. Wrapping it carefully, she safely disposed of it before washing herself and her legs with a pitcher of water and a clean rag, getting rid of all evidence of what happened and dressing herself once more.

"Maliya?" She heard Tyene call as she entered the tent again. "I found some new sheets for the bed. Are you doing alright back there?" She waited a moment, but when she didn't hear an answer, Maliya heard Tyene's steps approaching. "Maliya?" She asked, peering around the corner.

By now there was nothing in all the Seven Kingdoms that could stop what Maliya was currently feeling. Her breathing started out really shallow, trying to ease the intense pain around her heart and then she couldn't hold back the sobs. Tyene rushed forward and caught Maliya as she crumpled to her knees, crying harder than she ever had before.

Maliya had spent the past six and ten years mourning her Targaryen family, but now she was mourning something else. She was mourning someone that she never met, someone that should have taken its first breath or its first step. Someone that she should have been able to hold, to cherish and to love. Someone that she had been creating and someone that died without her even realizing it.

"This is my fault," Maliya weeped, gasping and hiccupping and hating herself in this moment. "I killed it. I killed my baby!"

Tyene looked bewildered at Maliya's reaction, but was doing her best to comfort an inconsolable Maliya. "Don't be ridiculous," Tyene murmured gently, wiping her tears with one hand and holding her close with the other. "This isn't your fault, it happens to many women – "

"I've been taking the Moon Tea for too long. I stopped a little over a moon ago, but I should have stopped sooner!" She gave Tyene a desperate look, shaking her head. Now there was even more guilt to add to the already crushing burden on her shoulders. "What if I can never have children again? What if I destroyed a part of myself, the one thing that a wife is supposed to do when she marries her husband? Robb needs an heir and if I can't provide him with one – "

"Stop," Tyene said firmly, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her slightly. "This is not your fault. You did not cause this, do you understand me? I'm not sure why you were taking the Moon Tea, but both Arianne and I have taken it occasionally for years now with no adverse side affects. I've never heard of anyone who's taken it being unable to have children." Tyene glanced towards the front of the tent. "Let me go get Robb – "

"No!" Maliya interrupted desperately, yanking Tyene back down as she began to rise. "No, don't tell Robb, he has enough to deal with right now. There's no point anyway. I would have to tell him I was with child, he would get his hopes up, and then I would have to tell him I lost it – it would just cause him unnecessary pain and sadness, and he can't be worrying about me right now."

"Alright," Tyene said quickly as Maliya's voice rose in pitch. "I don't agree with lying _again_ , but the decision is yours to make." Maliya heard what Tyene was saying, but she knew the truth. The loss of her child was her fault, her punishment for keeping her secrets and for lying to the people that she cared about most. "I'm sorry," Maliya blubbered as Tyene drew her close again. "I'm sorry for lying to you Tyene. Everything's my fault. I'm sorry."

"I know," Tyene murmured soothingly, smoothing down her hair. "I know."

Maliya pretended not to notice how her cousin's hand had stilled for a moment before she spoke or the odd tone to her voice. Deep down she realized that things between her and Tyene were different now, but it just wasn't something that she could worry about in this moment. She could only focus on one heartbreak at a time.

* * *

 **Cersei's POV**

Cersei swept down the hallways of the Red Keep, a small smile playing around the edges of her lips as she laced her fingers in front of her. She barely noticed the servants hurriedly bowing and scurrying out of her way or the two guards that were constantly trailing behind her. The impending doom that had been hanging over the castle had dissipated since her father's resounding defeat against Stannis Baratheon. Cersei herself felt lighter than she had in days – her children were safe, they had now acquired the alliance of Tyrells and her father was back in the capital.

The one thing that hadn't gone quite according to plan was Rhaenys Targaryen. She had hoped that she would have that problem taken care by the time her father returned, but the little bitch was proving annoyingly difficult to kill.

Cersei's thoughts were interrupted as the door to the Hand's chambers suddenly burst open and her imp of a brother came storming out. She caught a glimpse of the absolutely furious look on her little brother's face before he turned the corner and found that her good mood increased tenfold. Apparently his meeting with their father hadn't gone as well as he had hoped and he most likely did not get whatever it was that he was after.

Trying to rearrange the smirk on her face, Cersei approached the Hand's chambers and knocked. "Enter," her father drawled. Gesturing for her guards to stay where they were, Cersei entered the chambers and approached her father, who was sitting at his desk, writing. "Sit," he ordered without looking up. She did as she was told, fighting the irritation as her father ignored her and continued to write. She had just opened her mouth to say something when he finally spoke, looking up at her with those calculating green eyes.

"Would you like to explain to me exsctly what you have been doing while I've been away fighting a war that your son started?"

Cersei froze at the displeased, accusatory tone in her father's voice, one that immediately put her on the defensive. Resting her elbows on the arm rests of the chair, Cersei tilted her head to the side. "I'm not quite sure what you – "

Her father looked up from his letter once more, sending her an annoyed, yet somehow amused look. "You may think that you have control of this city, Cersei, but you are sorely overestimating your abilities as a mastermind." Cersei flushed in anger and humiliation but her father wasn't finished. "You've been receiving more letters than usual these past few moons, most of which have the Bolton's seal on it. Would you like to explain why you are corresponding with a house that is in open rebellion against your son's throne?"

Cersei's jaw clenched. Someone had been sharing her secrets with her father and when she found out who it was, they were going to wish they had never crossed her. She knew, however, that she had no choice but to tell her father the truth. "When Ned Stark was our prisoner, he was kept in the lowest level of our dungeons. Like so many others, he lost part of his mind after a time down there and one of the jailers overheard him talking about Rhaenys Targaryen and a secret that he had kept."

"Rhaenys Targaryen is dead," her father interrupted in a bored voice, sounding as if she was wasting his time. "I saw her body myself."

Her green eyes glinted with the knowledge that she knew something her father didn't. "Apparently not," she said lightly. "I remember Robert mentioning how much Robb Stark's little wife looked so much like Elia Martell and I did some digging. Maliya Martell, is in fact, Rhaenys Targaryen in disguise." The corner of Cersei's lips lifted at her dramatic words, hoping for some sort of reaction from her father, but was disappointed when his face showed no sign of what he was thinking. "Joffrey's rule is threatened by her very existence so I contacted the one house in the north that hates the Starks as much as we do. It was quite easy to turn Roose Bolton to our side once I offered him the role of Lord Paramount of the North."

"And what, pray tell, was your plan once you murdered the wife of the King in the North?" Her father asked, leaning forward. Cersei froze at his question and he correctly interpreted her silence. "Once again, Cersei, your short sightedness astounds me. I am officially taking over your ridiculous operation," he informed her, setting one letter to the side and sliding an empty piece of parchment in front of him. He dipped his quill in the ink bottle and began to write once more. "From here on out you will have no further contact with Roose Bolton and you will forget about Rhaenys Targaryen. I am going to fix yet another one of your failures."

Cersei sat there, seething with anger, hating that her father wouldn't even look up at her. "Father – "

"You are dismissed," he interrupted coldly. Glaring now, Cersei rose, spinning towards the door, her heels clicking against the floor. "Cersei." She stopped at the sound of his voice, but didn't turn around. "Make yourself useful and bring that son of yours to heel. If you don't, then I will."

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

"Seven hells, what a fucking day," Robb groaned as he sat down heavily on the bed. She was curled up on the opposite side, facing away from him and struggling to feel nothing. "The good news is, I think I've come up with a solution," he continued to chatter, toeing his boots off before shrugging off his shirt and breeches. "We're packing up the camp and heading east, towards Harrenhal. The men are eager for a chance to attack one of the Lannister's forward base's." She felt the bed dip as he slipped beneath the furs and felt the heat of him as he shifted closer to her. Her eyes closed as his arm threaded around her waist, brushing against her stomach and making her stiffen. He brushed her hair to the side and pressed a kiss beneath her ear. "I'm sorry I've been so busy these past few days. I've missed you." Tears filled her eyes as she felt his hardness pressed against her, and when his hand trailed lower she quickly pulled away from him causing him to freeze for a moment before retracting his hand safely to her hip and lifting his head. "Maliya?" He asked.

She understood his confusion – ever since they started being intimate with each other, Maliya had never once rejected his advances. She hated doing it now, but she couldn't feel his hands on her without thinking of her failure and the precious life that she had lost. "Not tonight," Maliya whispered, trying to keep her voice even. "I'm too tired and I have my moon's blood."

He was silent for a long moment. "Alright," he murmured, before removing his hand and sliding back to his side of the bed.

The tears silently slipped down her cheeks, missing his warmth and regretting what seemed like leagues worth of distance that she felt between them.

* * *

 **Theon's POV**

The echoes of that blasted horn rang through the night once more, and Theon gritted his teeth as the sound only served to increase the pounding in his head. "I swear on the Drowned God, the old gods, the new gods and any other fucking god out there that I will kill that man!" He raged, hurling his cup of wine at the wall and immediately regretting it.

"They want you to know that you're surrounded," the old maester said, making Theon roll his eyes at the obvious comment. He threw a glare in the direction of where he was standing, his hands clasped beneath his sleeves.

"I bloody know that I'm surrounded," Theon growled, glowering into the fire once more. "I stood on the battlements myself." And he had. He had seen the five hundred soldiers that surrounded Winterfell and in that moment, he knew that death was coming for him. He had twenty men against five hundred. His father had sent no word and his sister had offered no help – he was well and truly alone. Theon stared into the fireplace, the flames reflecting off his eyes. "The first time I saw Winterfell, it looked like something that had been here for thousands of years and would be here for thousands of years after I was dead. I saw it and thought, "Of course Ned Stark crushed our rebellion and killed my brothers. We never stood a chance against the man who lives here."

"Lord Stark did his best to make Winterfell your home as well, Theon – "

"Something that everyone always loves to throw in my face," Theon snapped, feeling the injustice of it all welling up inside him once more. "Do you know what it's like to be told how lucky you are to be someone's prisoner? Lord Stark stole me from my home, killed my brothers and used me as pawn to keep my father in line. And then to be able to go back to my real father, returning home as his only surviving son and – " He broke off before his voice could crack, swallowing harshly.

"It's alright to admit that your father was not what you expected him to be," Maester Luwin assured him. His voice was gentle with a slight hint of pity and Theon hated it. "You shouldn't have to prove yourself – "

"Shut up," Theon snarled savagely, leaping to his feet. "What do you want me to say? That my father will give zero shits about whether or not I live or die tonight? That no matter how hard I try, he will always favor my sister ahead of me? I don't know who I am anymore," he shouted at Maester Luwin, spit flying from his mouth. Everything that had been building up inside him was being yelled across the room and Theon couldn't find it in him to stop. "I've been away from the Iron Islands too long to be considered a Greyjoy and I was raised in Winterfell but cannot be considered a Stark. I've betrayed Robb, the entire north thinks that I killed Bran and Rickon and now I have no choice but to die."

Maester Luwin's eyes were watery when Theon shot him another look and he belatedly realized what he had let slip. "I knew it," Maester Luwin whispered, face shining. "I knew it. The clothes fit, but the muscles in the legs…" Theon looked away from him quickly, jaw working, but it was too late. "Theon, how did Bran and Rickon escape?"

"It matters not," Theon answered dismissively.

Maester Luwin watched him for a moment before walking several paces closer to Theon, his face imploring. "I serve Winterfell Theon, and Winterfell is yours. There are hidden passages, ways out of the castle so the Lord of Winterfell could escape undetected if the need should ever arise. When night falls completely, use the tunnels and head north to Castle Black. Become a man of the Night's Watch; once you have taken the black, you are beyond reach of the law."

 _The Night's Watch_. Why hadn't Theon thought of that before? He would no longer be Theon Greyjoy or Theon Turncloak. He would be a nobody. He would be on an even playing field with the rest of the men. The Night's Watch was an honorable calling, one where he could rise through the ranks quickly. The hope that was bubbling within his chest popped as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "I can't," he said lowly, shaking his head. "Jon Snow will slit my throat because of what I did."

"Once you become a brother, all your past crimes are forgiven, Theon," Maester Luwin reminded him. "You can make amends for the things that you've done."

"I've done a lot, haven't I?" Theon asked, frowning into the flames once more. Robb's face appeared in his mind. Whenever he pictured his friend, the man who considered him a brother, he glared at him with betrayal and hatred shining from his blue eyes, looking at him as if he didn't recognize him. "What if I don't deserve a second chance?"

"Everyone deserves a second chance," the maester disagreed. "The man who you are pretending to be is not the man that I know you are." The man put a hand on his shoulder and Theon found his presence oddly comforting. "Choose to live, Theon. You have the potential for such greatness, don't let it go to waste."

Theon's heart was hammering wildly in his chest as he dared to hope once more. Truthfully, he didn't want to die. And he didn't want to go down in history as Theon Turncloak, the man who took Winterfell from the Starks and killed Bran and Rickon. He could feel his entire life hinging on this one moment, this one decision. "Alright," Theon agreed before he could change his mind, excitement leaping through him. "So how do we do this?"

"When your men realize that you have escaped, they will surrender to the northmen and I will be there to broker a deal to allow the Ironborn to return home. Throw back the rug," the old man ordered as he hobbled towards the fireplace, reaching up to the candlestick holder. "This tunnel was built directly into the Lord's chambers when Winterfell was built, an escape plan in case the castle fell under siege."

Frowning in confusion, Theon did as he was told, pulling back the rug as far as he could until it reached the bed. Maester Luwin then pulled the candlestick holder and Theon's eyes bulged out of his head as a section of the stone floor in front of the fireplace began to slide open. He leaned forward and saw old steps leading down into the darkness. "Where does this lead?"

"North, beyond the castle walls," was the old maester's vague answer. "This won't be an easy road, Theon Greyjoy, but I have faith that you will be able walk it. Pack some things but keep it light. I'll have someone grab you food from the kitchens."

Theon hurried to pack, grabbing his bag and stuffing spare shirts and pants into it. He froze for a moment, looking down at the kraken emblem on his chest before ripping it off. He stared down at the symbol of his father's house for a long moment before tossing it into the fire and turning his back on his family once and for all. He donned a plain black shirt, throwing his cloak around his shoulders and buckling his sword to his hip.

Maester Luwin returned several minutes later, another small bag in his hand. "Take this," he urged, placing the bag over Theon's shoulder. He also had a torch, which he lit using the fire in the fireplace and thrust it into Theon's empty hand. "Good luck and safe travels, Theon Greyjoy."

The words 'thank you' were on the tip of Theon's tongue but he couldn't speak them. Instead, feeling equal parts anxious and afraid, he nodded shakily and took a deep breath before descending down the steps into the darkness. He didn't know where it would lead or what would happen at the end of this journey. But he did know that he was going to do everything in his fucking power to fix what he had done and right the wrongs that he had made.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I borrowed a few lines from show during the Robb/Catelyn/Karstark scene as well as Theon's scene because my heart broke when I heard them and I felt they added a lot to the scenes.**

 **I did a lot of research on miscarriage for this chapter and I'm overwhelmed with sadness for the women, babies and families that have gone through this. If any of you readers have ever gone through this, I just want to say that I'm sorry. I hope that I accurately portrayed Maliya's reaction and that you felt her heartbreak, grief and guilt.**

 **As for Theon… did anyone see that twist coming? How do you feel about him going north the take the black? And now Tywin is taking over for Cersei – shiiiiiit.**

 **Also! A few of you mention in your reviews that you think you know what's coming or you have an idea in your head - and then you don't elaborate! I would love to know what you guys are thinking so please fill me in so I don't go crazy wondering haha. Please don't forget to review!**

 **Next chapter: Season 3 begins! And I'm pretty sure it's what you've all been waiting for :)** **I've been wanting to write this chapter since I first started this story and I'm so excited that it's finally here! I can't wait for you all to read it. I've already started writing it, so I'll probably post it by next Monday – even sooner depending on how much time I have.**

Guest 1: Thanks for reviewing! I hadn't even thought of that, but now that you mention it I can kind of see it. Thanks for making me chuckle!

Guest 2: I figured it was time to get them to stop arguing haha, especially about fighting in the war. I'm so glad you liked the chapter, thanks for the review!

Guest 3: I can definitely see where you're coming from! Unfortunately, Maliya isn't thinking that if she tells Robb the truth that everything would be alright. She thinks that everything will go terribly wrong and she's terrified. She's kept her moon tea a secret as well because this essential form of birth control is not popular throughout Westeros. As for the rest of your review, all I'm going to say is that you're very astute! Thanks for reviewing, I hope you liked the chapter!

Charlie: Thanks for your review! Do you totally hate me after this chapter? I promise that this isn't the end, just a minor bump in the road. Hope you liked the chapter despite everything else.


	24. Reborn in Fire and Blood

**Author's Note: Fastest update ever, woo hoo! I wish I always had this much free time on my hands! Thank you to everyone that read the last chapter and special thanks to those of you who took the time to review.**

 **I'm going to admit something to all of you – I have never been more nervous for all of you to read a chapter than I am right now. I spent countless hours trying to make this chapter perfect and I'm taking a huge risk with the direction this story is going. I am very proud of the way this came out and I really hope everyone here likes it as well.**

 **There is a short M rated scene in the beginning of this chapter. If you don't like those scenes, feel free to skip it. So, on to season three! Please note that there has been a small time jump of about one month since the last chapter. Read and review :)**

* * *

Chapter 24: Reborn in Fire and Blood

 _Maliya was surrounded. Her enemies were gathered around her, their faces cold and cruel. She could name most of them – Tywin Lannister and his children Cersei and Jaime. Robert Baratheon, Gregor Clegane, and Amory Lorch. There were others there as well: her father was standing next to a woman with dark hair who looked oddly like an older version of Arya. His purple eyes were sad as they watched her, and the woman's white gown was dripping with blood. Hundreds of thousands of faceless men stood behind them, swords in their hands and murder in their eyes._

 _She was surrounded, about to die, and yet she felt calmer than the Summer Sea on a clear, cloudless day. A savage grin crossed her face as a shadow passed over her. Glancing up, she caught sight of a magnificient white dragon flying through the air. She watched as its wing dipped, turning it back around once more, opening its mouth and letting out a terrifying roar. Looking at her enemies once more, she spread her arms and murmured, "Burn in hell."_

 _The dragon had stopped, hovering above her as fire shot from its mouth. Her grin grew so wide that her cheeks hurt as they went up in flames, screaming in both pain and terror. She let their screams wash over her, the bright orange flames dancing in her eyes and she felt power surge through her._

 _She could feel the sting of the burn as the flames drifted closer to her but it felt wonderful, like nothing she had ever felt before or could have conceived of. The dragon roared again and she looked up to see it drifting lower until it dropped in front of her, making the ground tremble under its immense weight. Smiling at it with love and pride, she climbed up its extended leg, taking care of its spikes before settling into the saddle on its back. It leapt back into the air, its powerful wings pumping up and down and bringing them higher and higher._

" _Are you satisfied yet, niece?" Maliya looked over to see a woman with silver blonde hair and purple eyes flying on the back of a black dragon even bigger than her own._

 _Maliya smiled at her, not wanting to let this feeling go, this feeling that was both terrible and magnificent, a burning laced with pleasure. "Not even close."_

" _Good," her aunt grinned, and both of them looked over to see two other dragons approaching them, each with riders on their back. She couldn't make out their faces but the sight of them brought her a sense of familiarity and joy. "Because together, we can accomplish anything. Together, we are unstoppable."_

Maliya jerked upright in bed, gasping for air. Robb was immediately beside her, a hand on her back, asking her what was wrong. Her eyes were wide and unseeing, however, and she couldn't answer right away. The power, that fiery power, was still thrumming through her veins, causing her heart to race and make her feel more alive than the past moon since her miscarriage. When she finally blinked, Robb's hands were gripping either side of her face, his blue eyes concerned. "Maliya?" It was probably the hundredth time he'd spoken her name. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I'm alright," she breathed, reassuring him. Her hands automatically reached for him, curling around his biceps before moving up past his neck and fisting in his hair. "It was just a dream."

"What – " He was abruptly cut off as Maliya pulled him forward and crashed her lips to his. He froze for a moment in surprise, only moving into action when she bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. They both groaned as he deepened the kiss. It had been so long since they had been like this that the heat and attraction between the two of them flared to life with alarming intensity.

Robb grabbed her hips and pushed her down on the bed, settling between her legs. "No," Maliya growled, threading her legs around his hips and surprising him by flipping them both over. She grabbed his wrists and pinned his arms above his head, nails digging into his skin. "Do not fight me on this, husband," she ordered in a low and dangerous voice, holding onto the commanding feeling from the dream.

His blue eyes were wide in the darkness, but he nodded hesitantly. "Anything you want," he breathed shakily, a strong undercurrent of excitement in his voice. Maliya liked being on top, but Robb was a typical male and usually liked to be the one in control, which she never minded. Today, though, he had no choice.

A small part of her wanted to take her time, but she knew that was going to be near impossible. The lust that was burning through her was a small imitation of the burning from her dream dragon's fire. She hastily freed Robb from his small clothes, moved her own to the side and sank down onto him, gasping and shuddering at the contact, which she had desperately missed.

Her nails dug into his chest, drawing more blood as she rode him, slowly at first before quickly picking up the pace. Robb must have felt the intense build up just as much as she did because he cried out each time their hips slammed together. His hands moved to her waist but she just grinned, lacing their fingers together and pinning them above his head once more. "Maliya," he gasped frantically, eyes rolling back into his head and Maliya grinned exhultantly before slamming her lips to his once more.

Their teeth clashed, tongues meeting and withdrawing as she picked up her pace even more, near addicted to this feeling of control and power. The coil was spiraling tighter and tighter inside her, driving her higher and then it broke. She cried out as her forehead rested against his, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her body tensed for a long moment before it began to shake. She vaguely heard Robb groaning as he finished inside her, his hands squeezing hers tightly.

Her body swayed as the tremors faded and she unlaced their hands, collapsing against his sweaty chest. "Fuck," Robb gasped, a shaky arm coming up to rub her back. "Fuck, I've missed this - missed you so much. What in the seven hells were you dreaming about?" He asked with a breathless laugh.

"I'm sorry I've been so distant," Maliya whispered, neatly avoiding his question as she wearily nuzzled her head into his neck. She hadn't quite found the strength to move the rest of her body just yet.

"Are you sure everything's alright?" Robb asked for the millionth time, brushing her hair back from her face. "I've been so worried about you, you've been so withdrawn and distant."

"I'm alright," she assured him, speaking the truth for the first time in a moon's turn. "I've been going through a few things but everything's alright now, Robb. I promise." And it was. It had taken her a long time to dig her way out from the guilt of losing that baby – it hadn't faded completely, but she knew such things were out of her control. She knew Robb had been worried. It was several days before she could let him touch her and this was the first time they were intimate since it happened. It wasn't that she didn't want to, but she had been so afraid of falling with child again. What if she lost another one?

"Good," Robb whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I hope – I hope that one day you will be able to tell me what was going on. Until then, just know that I am here for you." Nodding and yawning, Maliya snuggled deeper into her husband as he pulled the furs up over them and drifted off into a content, dreamless sleep.

* * *

It was late morning when the northern army made camp several days away from Harrenhal. It had been a long journey back east – her muscles were sore from riding for so long and her dress was filthy from the heavy rains they had experienced. She could really use a warm bath to soak away the layers of dirt coating her skin but she would have to settle for a change in outfits. Taking her sword and bag from Shadow's saddle, she followed the guard to her and Robb's tent, grateful that there's was usually one of the first to be set up. "I've sent a few riders ahead to scout out Harrenhal, see what their defenses are like, how many men they have," Robb informed her, following her into the tent. He tossed his bags on the bed as she placed her sword and bag on the table, opening it to pull out a new dress.

"That's smart," Maliya said, laying the dress out the bed and turning her back to Robb, moving her hair out of the way so he could undo the laces of her riding dress. "Where's Grey Wind?"

"He's hunting." He placed a kiss to her bare shoulder after undoing her laces and she shrugged out of the dress before slipping the new one on. "He's been sticking so close to me lately that he was growing restless. He should be back by tonight."

"Good," Maliya nodded, tying laces that were in the front of her dress this time. "I've been so used to having him around that I feel uneasy when he's gone for long periods of time. He's become an extension of you."

"Lord Bolton, Your Graces," the guard announced. Maliya and Robb looked around as Lord Bolton stepped inside the tent. Maliya crossed her arms as his pale, unnerving eyes fell on her, that same strange feeling spreading through her every time he looked at her. Maliya's gaze searched his unsmiling, almost grave expression before falling to the two letters that he had in his hand.

"News from Riverrun…" he paused, his eyes moving to Robb. "And from my bastard at Winterfell."

Maliya looked to Robb as well, who just stood there for a long moment, unmoving. She was sure that he was just as aware of the negative waves emanating from Lord Bolton. Her heart rate began to increase; she was almost positive that whatever was written in those letters was bad news. Robb finally moved, taking the letters from Lord Bolton with a nod.

Robb waited until Lord Bolton had left the tent before reading the letters. Maliya watched him impatiently, her mind going through all the terrible scenarios, each one worse than the last. When he was finished, when he looked up at her, Maliya lost her breath at the agony in his eyes. "My grandfather, Hoster Tully, has died," he informed her in a dead sort of voice, shoving the letters at her as he stalked past her. "And Bolton's bastard… when he got to Winterfell, the Ironborn had already massacred everyone and put the castle to the torch. Bran and Rickon," his voice broke and she took an unconscious step towards him. "They haven't been found."

Fear spread through her. "Maybe," she said, thinking quickly. "Maybe Theon took them with him or maybe they escaped – "

"We've heard no word from Theon," Robb spat furiously, slamming his fist down onto the table making the dishes rattle and making Maliya jump. "We would have gotten word of a ransom or from one of the nearby houses if they sought shelter. Fuck!" He roared, sweeping everything off the table. Her bag, cups, dishes, a pitcher of water and wine, all of it went crashing to the floor.

Maliya watched Robb snap and break under the pressure and the grief. His face was a mask of pain, a snarl on his lips as he repeatedly punched one of the wooden beams holding the large tent in place. "Robb," she murmured, putting the letters down and walking closer to him, but he didn't seem to hear her. "Robb, stop!" He stilled as her hand touched his shoulder, hunched over and panting. "Let me see," she said gently, turning him around to face her. He wouldn't look at her as she took his hand, wincing at his bloodied and swollen knuckles.

"I'm fine," Robb muttered, pulling his hand back. "I'm going to tell Lord Bolton to send word to all the Houses surrounding Winterfell, to tell them to keep an eye out for Bran and Rickon. I'll – I'll be back to clean up this mess."

"Alright, but I'm going to send for Lady Talisa and have her bandage your hand!" She called after him as he stalked out of the tent. "Find Lady Talisa and bring her here, please," Maliya asked the guard, pulling back the tent of the flap slightly. "Tell her to bring some bandages." The guard bowed and took off and Maliya stepped back inside.

She sighed heavily, putting a hand on her aching heart. Bran and Rickon… maybe she never should have left Winterfell to join Robb in the South. If she had stayed, could she have prevented this from happening?

Where were they? Were they with Theon? Somewhere else? Or were they… No. She refused to think it, refused to even acknowledge the possibility. They were alive and they were somewhere in the north, it was just a matter of finding them. Besides… with his father dead, his mother betraying him and his sisters in the clutches of the Lannisters, she didn't know if Robb could continue on if he believed that his brothers were dead as well. There was only so much that a person could handle as evidenced by Robb's small breakdown just now.

"Your Grace?" Lady Talisa asked, stepping inside the tent. Her eyes widened when she saw the mess, slowly sweeping around before landing on her again. "What happened here? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she assured her, feeling slightly embarrassed about what happened and what Lady Talisa was now witnessing. She bent to pick up the cups from the floor as Lady Talisa slowly walked further inside the tent, putting her bag on the table and looking around. "There was a slight incident, but no one was injured." She placed the cups on the table and moved on to the now empty pitchers. "Well, no one besides Robb's knuckles, which is why I asked you to – "

She stopped talking abruptly as she straightened, looking around at Lady Talisa to see her crouching near the bed. Maliya's gaze darted from where her bag was lying partially hidden behind the bed, dresses spilling out of it, to the open box in Lady Talisa's hands. Maliya was frozen, unable to think, unable to move, unable to breathe. Her bag must have gone flying when Robb swept everything off the table, and it hadn't been closed because she had been dressing... her eyes widened, darting back to the bag where she hoped that her egg was still hidden.

Finally jolting herself into action, Maliya placed the pitchers on the table and slowly walked towards Lady Talisa. "Tansy, mint, wormwood, honey and pennyroyal…" Lady Talisa's fingers trailed over each of the ingredients before frowning up at Maliya, who bent to pick up her bag. She was reassured by its heavy weight and a dizzying wave of relief flooded through her when she realized that the egg was still in her bag. "How long have you been drinking Moon Tea, Your Grace?"

Maliya's mouth parted to say something, anything, but it wasn't her voice that they heard.

"Moon Tea?" Robb repeated in a strangled voice.

She whirled around to face him, paling considerably when she realized he was indeed standing there and that he had heard what Lady Talisa had said. "Robb!" She said, attempting to put a smile on her face.

"Your Grace," Lady Talisa murmured, shutting the box as she stood and bowed, sending Maliya a panicked look out of the corner of her eye. Maliya was so focused on the look on Robb's face that she completely missed it.

"Lady Talisa is here to bandage – "

"Don't fucking change the subject, Maliya," Robb snapped, his voice cold and his blue eyes flashing. He raised his arm to point a finger at the box in Lady Talisa's hands. "Why do you have a box of ingredients for Moon Tea? Isn't that used to end pregnancies?"

"I – " Maliya stammered, fear making her voice and hands shake. "Well yes, technically, but – "

"Did you use these ingredients to make the tea?"

"Yes," she answered in a small voice, clutching her bag and the egg to her tightly.

"Did you drink it?"

"…Yes."

"For how long?" Robb asked, unable to hide the crack in his voice.

"Robb – "

"For fuck's sake, Maliya, how long?" Robb roared, eyes wild and spit flying from his mouth. His fists were clenched, blood still dripping from one of them.

Maliya felt Lady Talisa jump in fear next to her, but Maliya's eyes just drifted shut, her lips trembling. "Since the beginning," she whispered, opening her eyes in time to see the flash of pain and betrayal on his face once more. He actually staggered back a step from her and that hurt Maliya more than anything. "Robb, please," she pleaded, holding a hand out to him. Everything was spiraling out of control and she could feel him slipping away. "Please just let me explain, I'll tell you everything, I – "

"You've been taking Moon Tea for almost a year now and _lying_ about it?" His voice cracked like a whip through the tent, lashing her with pain with every word that she said. "Seven hells, Maliya, you've been _murdering_ any child that we created!" Tears filled Maliya's eyes at his words, spilling silently down her cheek as her mind flashed back to that little bean that she had created and killed.

She couldn't breathe. Her chest was tight with fear and anxiety as her worst nightmare was coming true right in front of her eyes. She could see the revulsion and hatred in Robb's gaze as he glared at her and she couldn't think of the right thing to say to make him understand. She was losing her husband, the man she was never supposed to love, and the thought made her want to scream.

Holding her hands out in front of her as if that would calm him down, Maliya began to speak to him in a trembling voice. "I started taking the Moon Tea because I never thought I could be a mother – "

Robb's cheeks were now red with anger as his eyebrows furrowed. "So all those times we talked about having children, when I told you how excited I was to become a father, was that just some big joke to you? Did you laugh behind my back because you knew it would never happen?"

"No!" Maliya cried desperately, horrified that he thought she was capable of that. "No Robb, please, you must believe me, I – "

"Believe you?" He repeated, staring at her as if she had lost her mind. "How can I, Maliya? You were supposed to be the only person that I could trust. After losing my father, being separated from Sansa and Arya and now – " His voice broke again, and his expression was more upset and heartbroken than angry now. "And now with everything that's happened with my mother and with Bran and Rickon missing – you were supposed to be my Queen, my other half." She forced herself to keep their gazes connected even though her heart was shrieking with pain and the anxiety of how this was going to end made her feel dizzy and off-balance. She deserved this. She deserved everything that was she was getting.

"I am, Robb, I am! Please, let's just talk about this," she pleaded, stumbling forward toward him. "Let me explain – "

"Stop!" He ordered in a cold voice, making her freeze in her tracks. "I don't want to hear what you have to say, it will probably end up being just another lie. We are supposed to be husband and wife, Maliya, we're supposed to share everything! But you've been so distant lately and now this…I don't know if I can ever trust you again." He shook his head, looking defeated. "It's like I don't even know who you are anymore." Maliya was horrified to see that his own blue eyes looked watery as he looked at her. "I don't even want to look at you," he admitted, sounding both disappointed and defeated. The floor tilted dangerously under her and she had to reach out to steady herself, gripping the table with one hand. There was a long moment of silence in the tent. "I'm sending you to Riverrun," he announced finally, sounding broken. "We'll meet you there after we take care of things at Harrenhal. You're not needed here and I need some… time to think. Pack your things. I'm going to pick out your guards and get the horses ready."

And then he was gone. The tears still streamed down her face, but when he left, it was like he took something with her – she felt strangely empty. Her husband hated her for killing any of their children and for lying. When she thought of all the other things she was keeping from him, she had to swallow the hysterical laugh that bubbled in her throat. How would he have reacted if he knew the entire truth?

"Your Grace." Feeling oddly detached, Maliya turned and was mildly surprised to see Lady Talisa still standing there. She had witnessed the entire fight but Maliya couldn't find it in her to care. The healer's face was pale and her eyes were wide with regret. "I'm sorry, I never meant – "

"You've done enough," Maliya cut her off, taking the box from her hands. "You're dismissed."

"I'm sorry," she whispered tearfully again, inclining her head before scurrying out of the tent.

The idea that she had to pack her things was laughable – all she had was this one bag with her most prized possessions in it. Her biggest secrets. One of them had been spilled open for Robb to see and now he was sending her away. Truth was, however, she couldn't find it in herself to get mad. If she had been in his position, she probably would have done a lot worse. Robb had so many people that had hurt, betrayed, and lied to him lately that she couldn't blame him for hating her and wanting some space to think.

All she could do was pray that he wouldn't decide to do anything too drastic. The thought of losing him forever was unimaginable – even the thought of not seeing him for a fortnight or two was hard to wrap her mind around. Taking a deep breath, shoving all her hurt, her fear and her guilt deep down inside her, Maliya hastily brushed the tears from her face with the back of her hand. There was something she needed to do before she was sent away.

Grabbing her cloak, she fastened it around her neck before moving over to where her sword was lying on the floor. She buckled it around her waist before shoving the box in her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "Tell the King that he can find me in my uncle's tent," she informed the guards as she left.

* * *

 **Oberyn's POV**

"Uncle?" He heard his niece call from outside his tent. "It's Maliya, may I come in?"

"Of course," he answered with a smile, turning around to face her as she stepped inside, a bag over her shoulder. "I'm glad you're here, I was just about to come find you! I received interesting news –" He stopped abruptly as she lifted her face to his, revealing her tear-streaked face. Even if he hadn't noticed that, however, the look in her eyes immediately told him that something was seriously wrong. Her brown gaze held none of the warmth or spark of life that it usually did – they were deadened, somehow, empty. The look made a shiver go down Oberyn's spine. "What is it?" He asked at once, his body on high alert as he examined her for injuries. "Are you hurt? Who did it? I'll kill them."

"Robb found out about the Moon Tea," she told him in a voice as empty as her eyes. "His grandfather died and he's sending me ahead of the army to Riverrun. He says he'll meet me there after he takes care of things here at Harrenhal."

Oberyn's eyes narrowed. "He can't just send you away. I'll speak with him, make him see sense – "

"You will do no such thing," Maliya interrupted firmly. "Robb is a King and he can do whatever the fuck he pleases. Sending me away wasn't the worst thing he could have done after he just found out I've been murdering his children and and keeping this from him for the better part of a year."

Oberyn's eyes widened in shock at the harshness of her words. "Murdering his children? Did he say that to you?" He asked, aghast. "Maliya – "

"It matters not," she said, shaking her head dismissively. "What's done is done. I'm here to say goodbye but I also wanted to ask you to watch out for Robb while I'm gone. There's been two assassination attempts on his life already and I don't think they will be the last. If something happens to him and I'm not there… I don't think I would be able to live with that."

"Of course I'll look out for the King," Oberyn told her impatiently. "There's never any question about that. But we should talk about this, Maliya, I know how you can get when something like this happens." Maliya just stared at him blankly and Oberyn's waved a hand in her direction. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. Whenever something like this happens, whenever you're hurt or afraid, you retreat inside yourself behind an impenetrable wall. It builds and builds until finally you snap."

"I can't," Maliya whispered. When she looked up at him this time, Oberyn was able to glimpse behind the wall, and he saw the agony and terror in her eyes and knew how much this was affecting her. "I can't talk about it right now because I'm not entirely sure what I'm feeling and if I try and analyze it, then I'm going to break down. And I can't do that right now. Not yet." She took a deep breath, clearing the tremor in her voice. "Robb needs some space to think and I'm going to give that to him. Hopefully by the time he gets to Riverrun he'll be ready to talk, and when I explain myself I'm going to have to tell him everything. I can wait until then. I have to. He's not ready to hear what I have to say right now. I've never seen him look so angry or so hurt." She looked away from him, jaw working. "All I can do is pray that he'll be able to understand. I don't want to lose him like I lost Tyene."

"You didn't lose Tyene," Oberyn told her gently, putting a knuckle under her chin and turning her head to face him. "She understands why you kept your identity a secret, she's just feeling hurt that you didn't trust her enough to tell her."

 _It was never about trust,_ Maliya wanted to scream. _It was about survival!_ "She's been keeping her distance from me, but I don't blame her. It will take a while to win back her trust and probably even longer to win back Robb's. I just hate that I've hurt both of them so deeply," she admitted, glancing at him and then away just as quickly. She put her bag on the floor and rummaged through it. "Here," she muttered, thrusting something at him. He looked down to see the box of Moon Tea ingredients that he had gifted her back before he had left Winterfell. "I'm not taking this with me to Riverrun, so do with it what you will. Burn it, throw it away, give it to Tyene, I don't really care, I just don't want to see it again."

Oberyn took the box, nodding, and placed it on the table beside him. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do, Maliya? Maybe I should come with you. I can't help but feel like this is partially my fault. I'm the one who gave these ingredients in the first place - "

"That's kind of you to say, uncle, but that's utterly ridiculous. The blame lies with me and me alone." Maliya managed a shaky smile, shaking her head. "I need you here, to help Robb and to continue to lead Dorne's army. Can you tell Tyene what happened? Robb will be here at any moment and I'd rather her hear it from you then from the rest of the camp." She let out a sigh of relief as he nodded. "Please keep Robb safe. He's hurting right now and he's vulnerable and I'm afraid someone will take advantage of that. I'll see you all at Riverrun within the moon's turn."

"I love you, sweet niece," Oberyn murmured sadly, pulling her in for a hug and holding her tightly. "I'm sorry that this has happened."

"I love you too, Uncle Oberyn," she breathed in a sorrowful voice as she returned his hug. "But I deserve far worse."

Seeing his niece like this, barely holding herself together, made his heart damn near break. Half of him wanted to gather her close and protect her so no one could ever hurt her again. The other half of him wanted to wring that Young Wolf's neck even though he knew full well that none of this was his fault.

Maliya was like one of his own – he had helped raise her and train her. He remembered little Rhaenys Targaryen during that first year she was brought to Dorne. The girl barely spoke for the first several moons, eating little and watching everyone around her with wide, frightened eyes. He watched her grow into a fierce, confident woman that reminded him so much of her mother. He adored Maliya and anyone that hurt her, hurt him. He would keep an eye on Robb Stark, save his life if need be, but he did not agree with the Kings decision to send Maliya away. It made them weaker, not stronger.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

"Your Grace," they heard Dacey Mormont call from outside the her uncle's tent. "King Robb is waiting for you by the horses."

"I'll be right there!" Maliya called back. Taking a deep breath, Maliya looked to her uncle one more time, feeling nervous butterflies flutter in her stomach. "Well, this is it," she whispered, rubbing her sweaty palms on her dress before lacing her fingers in front of her.

"I'm coming with you," Uncle Oberyn said immediately, and a wave of love and gratitude washed over Maliya, making her knees weak. She was married and a Queen and he would still do anything to protect her. It meant more to her than he would ever know, especially since she was terrified to see Robb and say goodbye. He must have caught some of that fear on her face because he squeezed her hand in reassurance. "It's going to be alright, Maliya, you will get through this." She nodded, though she wasn't entirely sure that she believed his words. "Wait!" Her uncle suddenly blurted, a hand clamping over her arm before she could leave. "There's something I have to tell you before you leave. I was just about to find you before you walked in."

"What is it?" Maliya asked, mildly intrigured at the look of excitement on his face even after what just happened.

He pulled her further from the tent's entrance so they wouldn't be overheard and dropped his voice to a whisper. "Ever since our talk about revealing your true identity, I sent letters to a few contacts that I have across the Narrow Sea in Braavos, Pentos, Lys, and Qarth asking about your aunt and uncle."

Maliya's heart began to beat faster. "And?" She asked urgently, eyes searching his hopefully. "What did you hear?"

"Rumors, mostly," he told her. "No one has seen them with their own eyes. But, they say that your Uncle Viserys is dead, the 'Beggar King' they called him."

A flash of sadness went through her when she heard about the uncle she never met, but she quickly pushed it aside. "And what of my Aunt Daenarys?" Maliya pressed, her mind flashing back that dream that she had had not two days past.

"She lives," her uncle confirmed and Maliya let out a breath of relief at his words. A strange glint entered her uncle's eyes. "There are rumors starting in Qarth and spreading from city to city… rumors that she managed to hatch not one, but _three_ dragons."

"Three?" Maliya gasped, eyes widening and heartbeat racing. Her brain was whirling, already thinking of the possibilities and what it could mean. "But how? How did she get them to hatch?" Her uncle shook his head but Maliya was already moving on, beginning to pace back and forth, suddenly very aware of the egg in her bag, pressed against her back. "If she knows how it's done, then she can help me hatch mine and then we could…" she trailed off, her excitement fading as she came crashing back to reality. "What am I thinking?" She sighed, rubbing a frustrated hand into her forehead. "My aunt is half a world away and she doesn't even know that I'm alive. Even if she did, I don't know what she's like or if she would help me. And I can't just leave, Robb would never let me go, especially not after everything that's happened."

"But she has dragons, Maliya – "

"Please, uncle," Maliya interrupted in a weary voice. "Thank you for telling me, but I can't think of this now. I promise that I will speak to Robb about it once he reaches Riverrun and we will decide what to do then." She could tell her uncle wasn't exactly pleased with her answer, but he nodded and said he understood. Squaring her shoulders and pushing all thoughts of dragons from her mind, Maliya left the tent with her uncle close behind her.

Dacey Mormont was waiting outside along with two guards, making Maliya frown. Her eyes trailed from Dacey's solemn expression to where each of the guards had a hand on their swords. Did Robb think she was going to resist his order in front of the entire camp?

"An armed escort?" Uncle Oberyn drawled. There was a smirk on his face but his dark glinted dangerously. "Is that really necessary?"

The warrior woman shifted uncomfortably and twitched a shoulder up and down. "I'm not really sure, my lord, I'm just following orders."

"And what orders were those, Lady Dacey?" Maliya asked, following her through the camp, Uncle Oberyn by her side as the other guards trailing behind them. She recognized Lord Karstark and Lord Bolton watching them pass by and had to avert her eyes. Did they know what was happening?

"Just Dacey, please, Your Grace," the taller woman said, glancing over her shoulder. "The King has asked me to find you and bring you to where he's waiting by the horses. After that, he's asked me to escort you to Riverrun until he can join you there. That's all he's told me," she finished, glancing back at Maliya again. She could see the curiosity in Dacey's eyes and knew the older woman was wondering why Robb was having her go to Riverrun without him. "Forgive me if I'm overstepping my bounds, My Queen, but is everything alright?"

Maliya thought of everything that had happened since Lord Stark's head had been chopped off and sadness entered her eyes. "No," she answered honestly, grief threatening to take over her once more. "No, it is not."

Dacey glanced at Maliya one more time but didn't press any further. "King Robb is waiting for you at the edge of camp."

And so he was. Her eyes found him immediately, standing beside Shadow with his arms clasped behind his back, looking every inch like the King of the North. She found herself taking him in one last time, starting from his auburn curls that she was so envious of and moving to his close cropped beard that made him look slightly wild and even more ruggedly handsome. His broad shoulders in the direwolf armor that she had made for him for his nameday, the fur cloak that added to his regalness. When she thought of him in the coming fortnight or so, however, she hoped that she wouldn't recall the impassive look on his face as he gazed at her, or the cold, distant look in his icy blue eyes. She'll picture those eyes that she loved so much gazing at her with that twinkle he reserved just for her and his happy, carefree smile that usually hid a hint of a laugh.

Their small party stopped in front of him and there was a short, tension filled moment where Maliya and Robb just stood there, looking at each other. "Dacey has agreed to accompany you to Riverrun along with a handful of my best guards." He gestured to the men who stood beside him, already astride their horses, all packed and armored.

Uncle Oberyn stepped forward. "I trust Your Grace won't object if I send a few of my own men as well. Riverrun isn't far from here, but my niece's safety is of the utmost importance," he said, placing a hand on Maliya's shoulder. There was nothing in her uncle's tone to suggest that he was displeased with this entire situation, but she knew Robb understood anway. She could only imagine the look the Red Viper was giving Robb right at this moment. He had a way of sounding casual and being threatening at the same time.

"Of course not, Prince Oberyn," Robb said, inclining his head slightly. "I would be comforted to know that there are a few more men keeping our Queen safe."

"Wonderful," her uncle replied smoothly. "I think an even ten sounds like a solid number. I shall inform them right now."

Maliya watched her uncle stride away before reluctantly turning back. She glanced at Robb and just as quickly looked away. Carefully stepping around him, Maliya approached Shadow, rubbing his nose and murmuring, "Hey, boy." Reaching on her tiptoes, Maliya heaved her bag up onto his back, taking the time to make sure it was properly secured and would not fall off. She tied her sword on next to it, taking longer than usual and then she couldn't delay any longer and had to face Robb.

Dacey caught the tension between the two of them and headed towards her own horse, busying herself. Maliya was all too aware of the audience that they had, and knew that she couldn't say speak openly. _Do not fall onto your knees and beg him to listen,_ Maliya coached herself, straightening her spine. _Do not weep and beg for his forgiveness. Do not say or do anything to embarrass either of you._

"I shall see you at Riverrun soon, My King," she said in a voice that was as casual as if she were asking about the weather. _And then when shall talk,_ were her unspoken words. _Then you shall know everything and we shall see what you decide._

"I look forward to that day," he responded easily and Maliya couldn't help but think that anyone overhearing this conversation would assume that they barely knew each other. Without thinking about it, she moved forward as if to embrace him, but he stiffened, something shifting in his eyes and she froze, flushing hotly at the rejection.

Thankfully her uncle and his men arrived at that moment, interrupting Maliya's pain and distracting her. All five men were already horsed and packed. She did not know four of the men, but a small smile graced her face when she saw Daemon Sand was among them. "It only makes sense that my uncle would choose one of the finest swords in Dorne to accompany me on my journey," she said to him, causing him to grin and wink at her. "I am glad that he chose you, Ser Daemon. Are you sure that you do not need him here?" She asked, turning to her uncle.

"Guarding you is more important," he said, joining her side.

"I am honored to be part of your royal escort, Your Grace," Daemon graciously said. "It shall be an adventure, like the time we crossed the Mander to visit Tyene's mother." Maliya's smile widened despite everything and she was honestly happy that he was joining her. Maybe he would be able to stop her from spiraling down into a deep depression.

"Safe travels, Maliya," her uncle whispered, pulling her into another hug and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "We shall see you soon."

"See you soon," Maliya repeated, throat burning once more, savoring his hug for as long as she could before she had to pull away. She turned to Robb once more as her uncle stepped up to Daemon's horse, grabbing the man's arm and pulling him close so he could whisper something in his ear.

"Goodbye," Robb murmured. Maliya's heart leapt for a moment as he opened his mouth again, his eyes full of something she couldn't understand, but he stopped and disappointment flooded through her.

"Goodbye, Robb," she breathed, staring at him for a long second. When tears began to prick the corner of her eyes, she turned away walking back towards Shadow. Grabbing the horn of the saddle with one hand, and sticking her foot in the stirrup, Maliya swung herself up into the saddle and gathered his reins in her hands. She nodded to Dacey that she was ready and she signaled to the other guards. Maliya turned Shadow around, falling in after Dacey and Robb's guards as her uncle's men fell in behind her.

Even though she warned herself not to, she couldn't help turning around one last time, meeting Robb's unreadable gaze. Taking a shaky breath, she faced forward once more, reaching behind her head to pull up the hood of her cloak. Only when her face was hidden from view did she finally allow the tears to spill over once more.

* * *

Three days. It had been three days since Robb found out about the Moon Tea, three days since he had sent her away. She barely said a handful of words since they left and in turn, her small group didn't speak much. The combination of Robb and her uncle's soldiers offered a strange dynamic – there were two very obvious groups and if Maliya cared to notice, she would have found the entire situation awkward.

Truth was, Maliya was too wrapped up in her own problems to pay much attention to anything. She felt lost, untethered to reality and all she could do was replay both Robb and Tyene's reactions over and over again, causing her mood to darken further. She had also been trying desperately to come up with a speech to tell Robb when he reached Riverrun, one that exposed all her secrets and laid everything out on the table. Unfortunately, everything she thought of sounded completely idiotic to her and she was almost positive that Robb would think she was insane.

Movement caught her eye and she looked up from where she was sitting against a tree to see Daemon approaching her, a cautious smile on his face. "Hi, 'Liya," he murmured, using her childhood nickname. He sat down next to her slowly as if he didn't want to startle her. "The riders that we sent ahead should be returning at any moment. They'll find a safe place for us to stop for the night." She nodded silently, looking around. The horses were grazing in what grass they could find, while the guards were stretching out their limbs and drinking water from the leather canteens. Dameon bumped her shoulder gently, capturing her attention again. "I don't presume to know what happened between you and the King and I'm not trying to pry. But if you want to talk about it, I'm here."

Maliya looked over to him and managed a smile, putting a hand on his arm. "Thank you, Daemon. I really appreciate it."

"Here, Your Grace." Maliya looked up to see Dacey standing above her, a leather canteen held out in her direction. "You should drink something." Maliya took it gratefully, murmuring her thanks. "May I join you?"

"Please," Mailya said, gesturing with her hand.

"Thanks." Dacey settled across from them, arms looped around her legs. "You two look familiar with each other, if you don't mind me saying. How do you know each other?"

"Daemon and I grew up together," Maliya answered, taking a swig of water.

Dacey made an involuntary face as she looked between the two of them and Maliya heaved a sigh, sending Daemon an aggrieved look. "I was warned that people in the North don't treat bastards the same," he chuckled, shrugging it off easily.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean – " Dacey broke off, looking slightly guilty. "It's just… well I've heard that you were called the Bastard of Godsgrace and…"

"And Maliya was a Princess," Daemon said, finishing her thought. "You know, before she became Queen, Maliya and I used to used to roll around naked in the fountains of the Water Gardens together," Dameon informed her, leaning forward and speaking in a conspiratorial whisper, as if it were some big secret.

Maliya rolled her eyes as Dacey's widened drastically, giving Daemon the exact reaction that he was looking for. She gently smacked his arm as he leaned back against the tree, smiling broadly. "What my dear friend has conveniently forgotten to mention," Maliya said loudly over his snickers. "Is that we were children at the time and that my father opens up the fountains to many children in Dorne, both highborn and lowborn alike. Even though he was a bastard, Daemon grew up and became my lord uncle Oberyn's squire and was eventually knighted by him."

"I'm sorry," Dacey apologized again, cheeks coloring a bit. "I didn't mean any disrespect. Bastards are just… treated differently here."

"Look at us, Your Grace, educating northerners one person at a time," Daemon joked, blue eyes glinting. Maliya just rolled her eyes again, though she couldn't hide the smile playing on her lips.

"Oh look, the riders are back," Dacey said with relief, jumping to her feet and hurrying over to see what they had found.

"It's nice to see you smile, 'Liya," Daemon murmured, rising to his feet and holding a hand out to help her up.

"Have I mentioned how glad I am that you are here?" Mailya asked, brushing off her dress.

"Your Grace, you should come hear this," Dacey called, waving them over. "Go ahead, tell her what you told me," she said to one of the guards when they joined them.

"Your Grace," he murmured, bowing slightly. "We rode a league or two and came across a small inn. The closest town is a mile away and it looked to be pillaged and mostly abandoned, possibly by The Mountain and his men. An older woman and her daughter and son run the inn by themselves, the husband died in one of the raids. They have several rooms available if we want to stay the night. They seemed eager for the money; it looked like times have been hard on them."

Maliya nodded, frowning thoughtfully. "What do you think?" She asked, looking to both Dacey and Daemon for their advice.

"It seems like a relatively abandoned area, so we wouldn't have to worry about attack," Daemon offered, shrugging. "I think it should be alright."

"I agree," Dacey said with a nod. "Plus, it would be nice to have a hot, cooked meal and a roof over our heads for the night. The horses would also get some much needed rest after riding steadily for a few days."

"Alright, then it's decided. We'll spend the night in the inn and continue on our journey in the morning."

"You heard the Queen, men, saddle up!" Dacey shouted, rousing the men with a grin. "Say a prayer that this inn has hot food and good ale!"

The men gave a cheer as they climbed back on their horses once more. Looking around at them, Maliya noticed that their spirits seemed to have lifted with the news and she felt shame trickle through her. Straightening her spine and shaking her head, she resolved to do better and to pay more attention. She hadn't been acting like a Queen, she had been acting like a petulant woman who has been moping about an argument with her husband. From now on, she was going to handle her pain on her own time when there weren't people counting on her. She was not the type of woman to fall apart because her husband was furious with her. She would fix things between them. She had to.

It was dark by the time they reached the inn. As soon as Maliya looked at the place she knew that these people had seen hard times. It was an obviously older two story building, made completely of faded timber. Whatever sign had been hanging above the crooked front door was missing and the stables behind the inn looked even smaller and run down.

Even so, the crumbling chimney had a plume of smoke rising from it, indicating that somewhere inside, a fire was lit and the small family that ran it came outside as they approached. "Welcome," the mother greeted, eyes darting between them with a nervous smile. She was a plump woman with brown hair that was beginning to turn gray. Maliya's gaze took in the way her daughter stood slightly behind her mother, brown eyes looking fearful or the way the boy watched them with an expression that was both fierce and sullen at the same time. "My name is Sheran and this here is my daughter Celia and my son Tobas."

Maliya dismounted from Shadow and approached her, both Dacey and Daemon doing the same in order to flank her. "It is a pleasure to meet you," Maliya responded with what she hoped was a calming smile. "My name is Maliya and these are my companions. I've been told that you have a few rooms that we can rent for the night?"

"Yes," Sheran nodded, sounding eager to please. "We have five available rooms on the second floor and I've made some beef and barley stew in case you decided to stop here."

"Wonderful," Maliya said, her mouth watering as her stomach rumbled. She turned to look at Dacey. "Dacey, if you would please pay this woman for the rooms as well as enough to cover the meals for all the men."

"Of course, Your Grace," Dacey nodded and went to her bags where she retrieved a bag of coins that Maliya knew Robb had given her.

"Your Grace?" The boy repeated, somehow sounding accusatory. "What are you, some kind of Queen?"

"Tobas!" His mother scolded, smaking the boy upside the head before sending Maliya a wide eyed look, her daughter shrinking behind her even further. "I am so sorry, he's been acting out ever since his father passed – "

"He didn't pass, he was _murdered_ ," Tobas pointed out fiercely, cheeks red and his eyes daring someone to say something.

"Tobas – "

"It's quite alright," Maliya interrupted kindly, holding up a hand as the mother sent her another fearful look, as if Maliya were going to give the order to have her son killed right here. "Yes, I am a Queen, I apologize for not introducing myself properly. It's a relatively new title to me. My full name is Maliya Stark, Queen in the North."

"Your Grace," Sheran mumbled, dropping into a clumsy curtsy and elbowing her children to do the same. "You are most welcome here. We owe our allegiance to Lord Tully and anyone who is the enemy of the Lannisters are friends of ours."

"It was Lannister men who killed my father," Tobas informed them darkly.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Maliya told him softly. "Lannister men killed my aunt and cousins as well as my good-father. I promise you, we're doing everything we can to get justice for the people that we've lost."

"Good," he responded venomously, crossing his arms over his chest.

Grinning at his reaction, Daemon turned to Maliya as Dacey stepped forward to put a handful of coins in Sheran's hand. "If it's alright with you, Your Grace, I'll have someone take your things up to your room." Maliya nodded and he turned to his fellow Dornishmen. "You two, take Her Grace's things up to the nicest room. We're going to set up a watch rotation as well, you three will start the night and you will be relieved shortly so that you can eat."

"Tobas, help the men with the horses," his mother ordered, pushing him forward gently. "Celia, help me put some more logs into the fire and get the stew ready." Her children and the rest of Maliya's group sprang into action. Dacey ushered her inside after Sheran and Celia, taking her cloak and handing it to the man who was taking her things upstairs.

Maliya wondered how long it had been since Sheran had any customers. The place was absolutely deserted and she could even see cobwebs hiding in the in the corners. "He – here you are, Your Grace," Celia muttered, her face aflame as she placed a bowl of stew and a mug of ale in front of her.

"Thank you!" Maliya called after the girl as she practically fled. She looked after her, frowning.

"Don't look so confused, Maliya," Daemon chuckled, digging into his stew with gusto. "Not everyone has met a Queen before and it can be quite intimidating. Not to me, of course," he clarified at the look on her face. "It's hard to find someone intimidating when you remember their awkward, frizzy haired, bony limbed years."

"Careful Daemon, I could probably still take you," Maliya warned, pointing a fork in his direction.

"I'm not so sure about that, Your Grace," he grinned, taking a swig of ale before looking over at Dacey. "Have you ever seen our Queen fight, Dacey?"

"Once," Dacey admitted, glancing at Maliya. "During the Battle of the Whispering Wood. She dressed as a man and took on the Kingslayer."

Daemon burst out laughing, his fist hitting the table. "That honestly doesn't surprise me in the slightest. Have you ever heard the story of how Maliya used to sneak out of her lessons with the Maester to join Prince Oberyn in the fighting ring?"

Hiding a smile, her mood slightly lifted, she listened to Dacey and the rest of their men as they talked and ate. The warm atmosphere was much more preferable to sleeping in a tent on the cold ground.

"Seven hells, I cannot believe I've eaten three bowls of stew," Maliya moaned, sitting back and putting a hand on her stomach. "You are a very good cook, Sheran," she complimented as the older woman came over to collect her empty bowl.

"That is kind of you to say, Your Grace. I – " Maliya looked up as she stopped speaking and noticed that her expression had changed and was guarded once more. Frowning, Maliya followed her gaze to see that a handful of men had entered the inn. Sheran hurried over to speak to them before bringing them bowls of stew and ale.

"What is it?" Maliya asked quietly, picking up on the tension emanating from both Dacey and Daemon.

"They're wearing all black, with no telling colors or house sigils," Dacey informed her in a low voice, picking up her mug. "Each one of the men is carrying a sword."

"It could be nothing," Daemon added. "Times are tough and it isn't smart to travel without carrying a weapon. Though it's a little odd that this place hasn't had any visitors in a long time and now the place is full. Just the same, pretend that nothing is amiss, Your Grace, we don't want to overreact."

Maliya tried her best to keep up with the conversation between the three of them as Dacey covertly alerted the rest of the men as to the potential situation. Maliya's right hand rested on her thigh, over the dagger she had hidden under her dress. She desperately wished that her sword wasn't currently lying upstairs with the rest of her things. Her stomach was twisted with anxiety as she watched the men from the corner of her eye, wondering who they were.

One of the horses outside suddenly gave a piercing whinny. "Tobas, check on the horses, will ya?" Sheran called from behind the bar, where she was refilling some mugs and where Celia was wiping down some tables. Tobas huffed a sigh at the order, but did as his mother asked, slamming the door behind him to show his displeasure.

Maliya reached for her mug and took a sip of ale, hoping to moisten her parched mouth. Her heart was pumping rapidly, adrenaline rushing through her body. The door opened again and even more men walked in, no colors, no distinct sigils. She counted them quickly. If these men wanted to do them harm, they were no outnumbered two to one.

"Where has that boy gotten to?" Sheran grumbled as she and Celia rushed to get more ale for the newcomers. What occurred next seemed to happen in slow motion. Sheran had paused by the window to glance outside for Tobas and startled them all by letting out a terrified, ear-splitting shriek. One of the newcomers swiftly stood, pulling his sword free, yanking Sheran's head back by her hair and slitting her throat. Her scream was cut of with a gurgle as she dropped to the ground.

The sound of steel being drawn rang through the inn as everyone leapt to their feet. Maliya quickly hiked up her dress far enough to pull her dagger from the thigh holster, gripping it tightly in one hand. There was no longer any doubt as to whether these men had ulterior motives as all of their eyes suddenly turned to her.

"We need to get the Queen out of here," Dacey hissed urgently.

"The boy and the men outside are dead," Daemon muttered under his breath, shifting in front of Maliya, lifting his sword after glancing outside. "And they're blocking the only exit."

"Then we fight our way out," Dacey snarled.

Maliya counted one heartbeat, then two before everything went to hell. By some unspoken agreement both sides attacked at the same time and the echoes of swords crashing against each other rang through the inn. Daemon and Dacey did their best to try and form a protective ring around her so that she would stay away from the fighting but there were simply too many men.

Maliya watched with calculating eyes, trying to see everything at once as she maintained a death grip on her dagger. She watched as one of her men killed one of the assailants before he himself was killed. Another one of her men cried out as he was cut on the shoulder while taking on two men at once. Actually, a quick glance showed all of her men taking on two assailants while Daemon himself took on three. Still, however, that wasn't enough.

One man slipped through swinging wildly at her. She ducked under his first swing, leaped backwards at the second and easily side-stepped the third. She wondered what exactly he was doing before it dawned on her that his main goal was separating her from her men and she fell into his trap. Narrowing her eyes in frustration, Maliya knocked his sword arm to the side and raised her leg to kick him in the chest, causing him to stumble backward and slam against the wall. She leaped forward towards him, holding his wrist away while she thrust her dagger up under his chin, causing him to choke and gurgle on his own blood.

Breathing heavily and spinning, she quickly surveyed the room, spotting a man coming up behind Dacey. Without even thinking about it she brought the dagger back and let it fly. She was aiming for his throat but hit him in the chest instead. Still, it did the trick because Dacey heard them man's cry and was able to whirl and thrust her sword through his heart.

"Shit," she muttered, realizing that she had no weapon now and two men were rushing her. She dove for the sword of the man she killed and knelt, bringing it up to block a downward swing. She didn't calculate the weight of the sword though, and was too slow in bringing it up. She managed to knock the sword to the side, but it still cut the outside of her shoulder, making her hiss in pain.

Maliya swept her leg out, catching his ankles and making him crash to the floor. She brought her sword back for the killing blow but the second man blocked it. Gritting her teeth, Maliya surged to her feet, engaging him with a flurry of quick blows. Blows that would have been quick with her sword anyway. Her brain was moving faster than the heavy sword in her hands and she miscalculated a block, receiving another cut on her leg for her mistake.

Frustrated, Maliya shoved a chair in his direction, which did not hurt him at all, but it distracted him enough to allow Maliya to effectively disarm him. "Who sent you?" Maliya growled, the tip of her sword pressed against his throat. The man sent her a crazed grin and she watched in horror as he gripped the sword with his bare hand, and began pushing it away from him with blood dripping down his arm. He slammed his head forward, connecting with hers and causing her to cry out, pain blossoming behind her eyes. He wrenched the sword from her grip as she staggered backwards, throwing it to the side and throwing a punch at her face. She managed to duck, stumbling away now, knocking into chairs and tables.

The man tackled her, causing her to grunt in pain as she hit the ground hard, landing on her stomach and knocking the breath out of her. Gasping for air, she swung her elbow back, hitting the man in the face and feeling satisfied when she heard his nose crack. He loosened his grip on her and she wriggled forward as best she could, struggling to free herself from his grip. Her eyes darted around frantically, trying to find anything to use as a weapon, but there was nothing near her except the fireplace. She looked to the right and was froze for a moment when she saw Celia hiding behind the bar of the inn, her face white and her eyes wide with terror.

Hands suddenly closed around her throat, his body pressing hers into the floor so she couldn't move. Choking in surprise, Maliya's hands scrabbled around the fingers tightening around her neck, trying to pry them away, but he was too strong. The blood from the cut on his hand covered his fingers and her neck and she couldn't get a good grip. She tried to kick, tried to squirm away, but it was no use. Maliya eye's bulged and she sputtered, automatically trying to draw in some air. Her legs stopped kicking as she lost her strength and terror belatedly filled her when the edges of her vision began to go black. The darkness crept in closer and closer – Maliya was certain she was going to die, when suddenly the pressure around her neck and on her body lifted.

Maliya coughed and gasped, her vision returning though there was a strange ringing in her ear. Eyes wide, still sucking in air that had never tasted so good, Maliya flipped over to see Celia standing over the man, a pitcher raised in her hand and a crazed look in her eyes. It appeared that she had smashed the pitcher across the man's head, hard enough to cause him to slump off her, but not strong enough to knock him out or kill him. Celia dropped the pitcher with a gasp when she realized what she had done and the man groaned, reaching for Maliya once more even though his eyes weren't properly focused.

"No," Maliya rasped, willing strength back into her body as she feebly tried to kick his hands away. Desperately searching around, not wanting to die, Maliya gritted her teeth and did the one thing she could think of. She scrambled on her stomach, reaching forward as she plunged her hand into the roaring fireplace, grabbing a flaming log and turning over to thrust it in the man's face. He screamed and flailed as it burned his face, his arms knocking against the log and causing his clothes to go up in flames in seconds. The burning log was knocked out of her hands, rolling across the floor and coming to a stop against the wall.

She forgot about it immediately as she rose to her feet, still feeling incredibly shaky. She quickly took in the room once more, allowing herself a moment of relief when she saw that Daemon and Dacey were still on their feet, bruised and bloody but still fighting. Her eyes darted towards the exit which was still blocked by fighting and then to a man who started in their direction, blood streaming down his face and a snarl on his lips.

Maliya stepped in front of Celia, empty arms spread to the side and she slowly backed them up, quickly thinking through her options. "Upstairs," she muttered, turning and pushing the younger girl ahead of her. "Go, quickly!" She shouted, her voice hoarse. The girl ran for the stairs and Maliya followed her, lunging forward as the man brought his sword up and slashed downwards diagonally. She cried out in pain as she felt the sharp, stinging bite of the steel as it cut from her right shoulder to her left hip. Catching herself against the steps, Maliya spun so she was seated and kicked out, catching the man in the face. Plunging her hand in her boot for her other dagger, she pulled it out and jammed it through the man's eye, causing him to scream and reel backwards.

Maliya let go of the dagger, staggering the rest of the way up the stairs, banging into the walls as she reached the top level. "Celia?" She called, beginning down the hallway, searching. She forced the pain from her mind as best she could, feeling the hot blood streaming down her back.

"In here," came the girl's frightened voice and Maliya hurried into the first room on the left.

Maliya slammed the door shut behind her and quickly locked it, scanning the room, and noting her sword and bag on the bed, which somehow made her feel better. "Quick, help me with the dresser," Maliya panted, moving to one side of it and throwing her good shoulder against it with all her strength to get it to move. Her back screamed in pain and her injured leg gave out from under her, causing her to crash to her knee with a cry.

"Oh gods, your back!" Celia gasped, voice trembling. "You're covered in blood and you grabbed a burning log out of a _fire_ and and oh gods, my mother! And Tobas!" The girl's eyes were wild as she took quick, shallow breaths. "Oh gods, we're going to die, aren't we – " She broke off with a scared scream as there was a sudden pounding on the door, obvious attempts to break it down.

"Celia!" Maliya said urgently, going over to the girl and shaking her shoulders to snap her out of it. "Celia, I need you to take a deep breath. We are not going to die, alright? Now, I need you help to move the dresser in front of the door so that man can't break in here. Do you think you can do that?"

Celia nodded with wide eyes and they both moved to the dresser, grunting and groaning as they pushed with all their strength, moving the dresser inch by inch until it was in the proper place. Gasping and exhausted, they both sank to the floor, trying to regain their strength. The door continued to rattle behind them as the man tried to break in.

Maliya closed her eyes for a moment, feeling strangely dizzy and still having a hard time drawing a proper breath. Celia began coughing next to her and when she opened her eyes again, she found that smoke was quickly filling the room. "Look!" Celia cried, pointing at the walls of the room, where flames were beginning to flicker. "The inn is on fire!" Coughing, Maliya stumbled to her feet again, an elbow held over her nose as she tried to think. She could hear shouting and screaming underneath them as the fire spread. The man was still outside the door and there was no other way out of this room. "I – I can't breathe," Celia gasped, peering through the black smoke one hand held out in front of her as she moved along the walls, searching.

"What are you – fuck!" Maliya shouted, as Celia suddenly threw open the shutters in the room, letting in the outside air and causing what felt and sounded like a small explosion. Maliya staggered backwards but Celia was thrown into the opposite wall where she collapsed and didn't move again. Maliya wasn't sure what had just happened but it seemed to have caused the flames to accelerate ten times faster. They now leapt across all the walls in the room, moving towards the roof and surrounding her completely. "Shit, shit, shit," Maliya whispered frantically, going over crouch by Celia's side. "Wake up. Celia! Celia, wake up!" She pleaded, shaking the girl, slapping her lightly in the face, but nothing worked.

Gritting her teeth in frustration, she went back to the dresser and tried to push it out of the way, deciding that she would rather face the man outside the door than burn or suffocate to death, trapped in this room. Panting, she stopped and rested her forehead against the dresser. It was no use. She was too weak to move it on her own.

"Maliya!" Maliya picked her head up and looked towards the door. "Maliya!" Dacey screamed, hitting the door with what sounded like the pommel of her sword. "Can you hear me?"

"I can hear you!" Maliya shouted back, wincing at the pain in her throat.

"I'm going to – " Dacey broke off, coughing. "I'm going to break the door down – ah shit," she swore and Maliya guessed that she had just burned herself.

"The door is on fire, Dacey, it's no use! We moved a dresser in front of the door to stop that man from getting in and now I can't move it again. Just go! Leave while you still can!"

"Fuck that, Your Grace, I'm not leaving you here!" Dacey screamed, sounding furious.

Maliya's lips managed to twitch despite the situation that she found herself in. "That is an order from your Queen, Dacey Mormont," Maliya snapped loudly, putting as much authority in her voice as possible. "Find Daemon if he's still alive and leave this inn, right now! Tell Robb – " she broke off, her breath catching in her throat. "Tell Robb I love him and that I'm sorry." Maliya paused for a moment, waiting, but she could hear no sound other than the roaring of the fire. "Dacey?"

"I'm sorry!" The woman shouted in a strangled voice, sounding scared and upset. "I'm sorry that I failed you. I'll – I'll tell him. It was an honor to fight alongside you, My Queen."

Tears pricked the corner of Maliya's eyes. "Goodbye," she murmured, moving away from the door. Feeling dazed and scared, Maliya moved towards the bed and grabbed her bag, settling on the floor. She gazed around the room, taking in the bright orange flames as they danced. It was a beautiful, yet terrible sight as she watched it eagerly consume the inn. She closed her eyes, feeling the heat of it on her skin, causing her to sweat and her hair to stick to the face and the back of her neck.

She didn't want to die. She didn't want to acknowledge that it was over, that she would never see Robb or the rest of her family again, that she would never really get the chance to _live_ without the burden of her need for revenge. It was somehow poetic in a way, though. She was half Targaryen, about to burn to death with all her secrets sitting in her lap. Ignoring the flames for a moment, she opened her bag and laid them all out before her, tossing her spare dresses to the side. The poison from Tyene, Lord Stark's letter, her crown and finally, her egg.

She picked it up and hugged it to her tightly, waiting for the end. Celia sat up, suddenly, gasping and coughing and making Maliya jump in surprise. She screamed when she saw the fire, terror in her eyes and she tried to scurry away from the approaching flames but it proved impossible. Her dress caught fire and when she tried to bat it away, it spread. Maliya's lips trembled as she shut her eyes, not wanting to watch. _I'm sorry,_ she thought desperately as the girl's dying, agonized screams washed over her. _Your death is my fault. If I hadn't have come here, then this wouldn't be happening to you._ They lasted far longer than Maliya would have thought possible and she found herself rocking back and forth slightly.

The flames reached her then, and Maliya felt them engulf her completely.

Holding the egg tightly to her chest, Maliya forced herself to think of the people that she loved. Her uncle's and her father's proud faces. Arianne, Trystane and the Sand Snakes laughing and joking during supper back in Dorne. Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon all snuggled with her on the bed as she told them the story about Nymeria. Jon's smiling face and solemn grey eyes. And finally, Robb. Robb's hopeful face during their picnic in the Glass Gardens of Winterfell. Robb's twinkling blue eyes during their snowball fight in the snow. Robb's eyes full of lust and passion as he hovered above her and the look of love on his face as he held her close. She loved them all and she would have given anything to see them one more time. But, she was glad that it was her that was trapped in this room and not them. It was a short life, but it was a good one and she wouldn't trade it for anything.

Something moved against Maliya's chest and she frowned, eyes still closed. It happened again and she blinked, tilting her head to the side and looking down. It took a moment for Maliya's brain to register what she was seeing.

 _There was a crack in the egg._

Holding the egg in both hands, she registered that there was a heat emanating from the egg even hotter than the fire that was currently engulfing her. Her jaw dropped to her chest when she realized that her dragon egg was actually hatching. All thoughts of dying fled her mind as her heart broke into an excited sprint. Shifting onto her knees, she placed the egg on the floor in front of her. "Come on," she murmured encouragingly, bending over it eagerly, her eyes alight. "Come on, you can do it."

The egg shook slightly and with Maliya's face so close to the egg she could hear the scrabbling sound coming from inside it. Another crack appeared in the egg's pearly white surface, forming a circular shape at the top. The circle trembled as it was pushed against from the inside and Maliya's heart was in her throat. "You can do it," she urged encouragingly, smiling now. "You're almost there." The egg wobbled again, with more force this time as a section of the top fell to the floor. "Oh," Maliya breathed, her breath whooshing out of her as a small, white dragon head poked through the hole. She watched, tears in her eyes, as the dragon shook its head, stretching its wings and cracking open the rest of the egg.

It was small, smaller than she thought it would be, about the same size as a kitten. But it was absolutely perfect. The tiny scales that covered its body were the same pearly white color as the egg was. Maliya also caught the gold markings on its body, along the outer edges of its wings, and shadowing the white ones down its neck and back. Its wings, legs and tail were all perfectly proportioned and unblemished.

It sat up, tilting its head slightly to the side as it looked at her through golden eyes. "Beautiful," she murmured, reaching out with a shaking hand to touch it. She jumped in surprise as a sharp flash of pain ran from the palm of her right hand, up her arm to her chest, but just as quickly it was gone and the dragon was nuzzling its head into her hand.

The smile on her face broadened as the dragon willingly stepped into her hand, its small claws digging into her skin as it climbed up her arm and onto her shoulder, giving a small cry as it perched next to her head.

Sitting here, in the middle of a raging fire, she looked over at her dragon and knew that everything was different. Her priorities had shifted drastically and her mind jumped all over the place as she tried to figure out what to do next.

Her first thought was that she had not even an inkling of how to care for or train a dragon. She didn't know what it ate, how it hunted, when it could learn to fly or breathe fire. And so, her second immediate thought was her Aunt Daenerys. Her aunt who had three dragons of her own and who was the only other person in the world who knew how to care for one.

Then her brain switched gears again. _'I see you standing in the middle of a raging fire, mouth opened in a silent scream. Only a lion pelt is wrapped around you, its claws digging into your flesh as rivulets of blood stream down your body.'_ The Red Woman's words came back to her and Maliya finally grasped their meaning. She saw this fire, which meant that the lion pelt must refer to the Lannister men who had come to kill her. It meant that Robb wasn't the target of the previous two assassination attempts and that realization gave her a giddy sense of relief. That was one thing that she didn't have to worry about anymore.

It also meant, however, that someone had found out that she was actually Rhaenys Targaryen and judging by the previous attempts, they wouldn't stop until she was dead. So if she survived this fire, she was putting everyone she loved at risk. Again. Both her and Robb would have died the night the intruder came into their tent, and Robb had mistakenly received the poisoned wine that she now knew was meant for her.

Robb had to live. His life was infinitely more valuable than hers. His family needed him to fight to bring everyone home safely and his army needed him to win their Northern independence from the Iron Throne. She couldn't put him in any more danger, not when so many people needed him.

And now… not only were the Lannister's were coming for her, but once word got out that she had a small, defenseless dragon… they would be coming in droves to either steal or kill it.

In her mind, there was only one thing for her to do.

She slowly stood so as not to startle the dragon, realizing that the fire had completely burned the clothes she was wearing and she was completely naked except for the sun necklace around her neck. She held her hand up in front of her face, watching as the flames licked over her skin. She could feel the heat of against her, but her skin wasn't blistering and she wasn't in pain. "Magic," she whispered, glancing over at the dragon who made another soft noise, opening its mouth and exposing small, yet sharp teeth.

Moving quicker now, she took off the necklace and moved towards where Celia's already unrecognizable body was lying. She felt terrible sadness fill her as she carefully placed the necklace around the girl's neck, grimacing and trying not to look at her too closely. The girl had been several years younger than her but she was roughly the same height. The thought was, hopefully if anyone came looking for her, they would assume this body was her own and that she was dead.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, mentally adding another life lost due to her real identity, before standing.

She cautiously reached out and picked up the dragon. It made a displeased noise when she placed it on the ground and muttered, "Stay," before picking up her sword and turning towards the dresser. It was relatively easy to chop her way through the burning wood and pull the wreckage out of the way before hacking into the door and clearing a path.

She tossed back her messy, unruly braid without thinking and hissed in pain as it made contact with the large cut on her back. Making an annoyed noise in her throat, she took her long hair in one hand and chopped it off with her sword, throwing the braid into the flames. Running her hand through her now uneven, shoulder length hair, she reluctantly place the sword next to Celia hoping that it would convince whoever had been sent to kill her that she was actually dead. She picked up the crown next, staring down at it for a long moment before tossing it on the ground next to the sword.

Each one of those items were a part of her identity. Her sword was given to her by her uncle and represented her past. The necklace was an engagement gift from Robb, a symbol of hope and love that she hadn't been parted from since she she put it on. And finally, the crown was her symbol of her future as the Queen in the North. An odd feeling filled her then, as if she were leaving behind these pieces of her identity in order to go on this new journey and start this new phase in her life.

Parts of the roof were beginning to fall inwards when Maliya picked up the dragon again, putting it back on her shoulder. She gathered the pieces of the dragon egg as well as the poison, lamenting the fact that Lord Stark's letter was non-existent now. It didn't matter, though, because Maliya had read it so many times that she had memorized it. She left the room and walked down the stairs, which proved tricky as the wood was giving way and splintering beneath her.

Taking her time, though, she picked her way across the first floor of the inn, stepping over the dozens of bodies that littered the floor and stepped outside, closing her eyes and breathing in the fresh air.

"Maliya?" Her eyes opened and she turned her head to see both Dacey and Daemon standing off to the side, gaping at her. There were tears streaming down Dacey's face and Daemon looked incredibly upset. "You're alive!" Dacey cried, her eyes trailing over her naked, bruised and cut yet somehow unburnt body before realizing what she was doing and jerking her eyes back up to Maliya's face. "How did you – what – this is impossible – " she stammered, eyes wide as Daemon hurriedly shrugged off his slightly burned cloak and jogged over to her.

Maliya turned to face him fully and the dragon gave an angry cry as he approached. He cursed violently, trying to stop his feet and slipping slightly, a hand thrown out to catch his fall. He straightened immediately, his blue eyes moving from the dragon to Maliya and back again. "Either I'm hallucinating or there's a fucking dragon sitting on your shoulder. Dacey, are you seeing this?"

Dacey's face was pale as she slowly approached them. "I see it, but I'm not sure I fucking believe it," She said in a hushed voice.

Maliya took the time to carefully look them both over while they stared at the dragon incredulously. Both were filthy and covered in sweat, ashes and cuts. Dacey had a limp in one leg and a hand pressed against her ribs while Daemon was sporting a black eye, a split lip and a possible broken wrist. It was a testament to their fighting skills that they managed to escape without any serious injuries.

As she stood there, the excitement and adrenaline fading from her body, she became aware of her own injuries. Her back felt as if it were still in that roaring fire and her throat hurt every time she drew a breath. Not to mention that her head was pounding in time with the other various cuts on her body. The panicked whinnying of horses came from the other side of the inn, capturing her attention. She would focus on her injuries later. Right now, they needed to leave here. A huge fire in the middle of the night would draw attention that she didn't want or need.

She hurried around the inn, intent on freeing the horses before the fire grew out of control and overtook the stables. She passed the three guards that had been stationed outside while they were eating their supper. It appeared that the assassins snuck up on them in the night and slit each of their throats so they couldn't shout a warning.

"Oh gods, Maliya, look at your back," Daemon muttered in horror as they hurried after her. "And did you cut your hair - "

"What are you doing, Your Grace?" Dacey asked in confusion, her voice sounding slightly higher pitched than usual as she talked over Dameon. "How did you survive that fire? And how is it possible that there is a _dragon_ sitting on your shoulder? They're supposed to be extinct!"

"Help me free these horses," was all Maliya said. They swallowed their questions for the moment as the frightened horses came into view, their eyes rolling as they reared up or kicked the walls of their stalls. One by one, the three of them threw open the doors to the stalls, quickly moving out of the way as they eagerly escaped the stables and ran off into the night. "Free all of them save for your own," Maliya called over the noise. "Even the ones tethered outside."

Shadow was the last horse that she came to. He reared as she approached and the dragon hissed in annoyance as he whinnied, its claws digging into her shoulder. "Easy, boy," Maliya murmured, stopping in front of the door as he came back down, snorting uneasily. "That's it," she encouraged gently, slowly unlocked the stall door and stepping inside. "Shadow, I'd like you to meet.. my dragon," she said, realizing she needed to come up with a name for it. "Dragon, this is Shadow. Play nice."

She carefully reached a hand out, stroking his neck soothingly and praying the dragon didn't make any sudden movements. She put the bottle of poison and the egg shells into her saddle bags before grabbing Shadow's reins and leading him out of the stables. Dacey and Daemon were waiting outside with their own horses. Now all they could hear was the roaring of the fire and the occasional sound of the inn breaking apart.

Daemon approached her again, holding out his cloak to her. The dragon lifted its head, its golden eyes narrowed dangerously as it watched him. Daemon stopped short as it gave another loud, warning cry, spreading its wings. "Protective, isn't it?" He asked nervously, wide eyes watching the dragon with apprehension.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Maliya murmured with a smile, running a finger along the back of the dragon's head as it folded its wings once more, looking proud of itself. "Thank you, Daemon." She took the cloak and clasped it around her neck, covering herself as best she could while shifting the dragon. His cloak was too long and she still felt terribly exposed, but it was the best she could do. All her dresses burned in the fire. "Which direction is the Narrow Sea?" She asked, looking at Dacey and Daemon curiously. Dacey gave her a look that clearly worried for her mental health before pointing back the way that they had arrived several hours ago. "Right. First thing's first, I need to find proper clothes and we need to clean and dress our wounds."

Dacey tossed her a blanket from her own saddle bags that Maliya also used to cover herself as she carefully swung herself up onto Shadow's back, blinking rapidly as the vision tilted dangerously. Damn it, she had lost too much blood. Sharing a bewildered look, Dacey and Daemon hurried to clamber on their own horses. "We can stop at a nearby village, Your Grace, and I'm sure we can have some dresses made for you when we return to Harrenhal – "

"We are not returning to Harrenhal," Maliya informed them, interrupting Daemon mid-sentence as she pushed her heels into Shadow's side and began to put some distance between them and the still roaring fire.

"Not returning – " Dacey cut herself off, pushing her horse into a trot to see Maliya's face. "Where in the world do you plan on going?"

Her strange, recurring dream came back to her. Her uncle had been right, she didn't understand what it had meant until this moment, with her dragon on her shoulder and her uncle's news about her aunt and her three dragons still ringing in her mind.

Her dragon settled against her contently, curling its body around her neck, its head lying on her left shoulder and his tail long her right. She smiled as it nuzzled her face for a moment before yawning and knew she was making the right decision. "Astapor." She told her shocked and bewildered companions. "I'm going to Astapor."

* * *

 **Author's Note: *Peeks out nervously* So? What did you think? Did anyone see this coming?**

 **Lots of things happened here: Robb found out about Maliya's Moon Tea, and my heart hurt just to write that scene between the two of them. I think we all could have guessed that he would react impulsively! Also… we have a DRAGON! You all have been asking me when that dragon would hatch and I hope I was able to surprise some of you with this scene. It was one of the first scenes I pictured when starting this story.**

 **Alright, friends, I need your help. I have many ideas about Maliya's journey and interactions with her aunt, but I want your input. What do you want to see? This is unchartered territory here and I feel like we can make full use of this adventure, so tell me! I'd love to hear your ideas :)**

 **Next chapter: Maliya begins her journey to Astapor to meet with her aunt, they encounter an unexpected danger and more of her "dreams" become a reality. Robb, Oberyn and Tyene come across a burned down inn and must face the truth of what they find.**

Charlie: I'm so glad you loved the chapter :) I tried my hardest to make sure you guys felt Maliya's pain - one of my main goals each chapter is to make sure all the characters emotions come through. When Jon sees Theon... oh man, I don't picture a good reaction on that front. And you were right about the dragon! Hope you liked the hatching and I can't wait to write more about it!

Momo: I definitely agree, a baby in the middle of the war would probably be the worst case scenario. But, like Cat said a few chapters ago, you never know what can happen so you can't put your life on hold. Yes, Maliya has good "reasons" for everything! There's definitely some fear and a sense of shying away from dealing with her problems head on lying underneath those reasons. I don't like to comment on the Red Wedding because I want an element of surprise, but I like your predictions as to who the man with the tattoo and earring is! No ideas are stupid :) I wish that I could give Maliya two dragons, but I thought it was already a bit of a stretch that she had one lol. Thank you for reviewing and I hope you liked this chapter!

Guest 1: As you can see from this chapter, Tywin getting involved was definitely bad for everyone - so many people died! Thanks for your review!

guest 2: Glad you loved it, thank you for your review!

Guest 3: Hahaha when you list all the things that she's dealing with and going through right now, it's not wonder she had a miscarriage! I'm surprised she hasn't had a heart attack! Maliya is... flawed lol it's going to take her a while to come to terms with everything that she's done and keeping from Robb. Thanks for reviewing!

Anna: Yeah, the scenes in both the books and the show with Theon and Ramsay were hard to watch and read. It definitely made me sick to my stomach turn and I couldn't picture myself writing about it. Yeah, Maliya is dealing with way too much at the moment - we'll see how she deals with it within the coming chapters. Thanks for taking the time to review!

Guest 4: Here's the next chapter!


	25. Broken Trust

**Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait everyone, I've had a bit of a tough time personally lately! I'm completely blown away by all your responses and I really wish I could write chapters that epic every time. Most of the reviews were positive, but for those of you that shared your concerns, please know that I've heard you and understand where you're coming from. I had to re-plan some of my outline but I think I've come up with a solution that you guys will hopefully like.**

 **So yeah, leave a review and let me know what you think!**

* * *

Chapter 25: Broken Trust

 **Maliya's POV**

"I don't understand," Dacey said after several moments. "Rhaenys Targaryen is dead. She died along with her mother and brother."

Maliya bit back a sigh. After her announcement that she was planning to head to Astapor, she had evaded all the questions they shot at her until they were far enough away from the inn. The first village they passed was entirely burned to the ground, but they had a stroke of luck when they passed the second. It looked as if it had been attacked before. Several of the houses were abandoned but the remaining villagers that lived there were hardened and armed with knives and cheap swords. Dacey still had the pouch of money on her and went by herself to purchase a dress for Maliya. It was ragged and a bit too big, but she was just grateful to not have to walk around naked any longer.

They chose to set up camp near the village. They cleaned up as best they could in a nearby stream and helped each other bandage their wounds, which proved quite difficult due to the fact that Maliya's dragon would hiss angrily any time Dacey or Daemon would approach her. Her throat felt raw and painful, but the worst of her injuries was the long cut on her back. It probably needed to be stitched but none of them had the proper tools so they did the best they could and Maliya tried to ignore the pain.

It was only when they settled down for the night that Maliya told them everything, hence the looks of incredulity and disbelief that she was currently receiving. "Died," Maliya mused, picking up a piece of raw chicken that Dacey had purchased at the village. "Such a vague, tame word. I prefer to say they were murdered." She looked down at the white dragon lying in her lap and held the piece of meat in front of it, trying to get it to eat. "The Mountain smashed my infant brother's head against the wall, raped my mother and then murdered them both. Amory Lorch savagely cut the Dornish girl that was somehow left in my place half a hundred times. Whoever that girl was, it wasn't Rhaenys Targaryen."

"And you want to cross Essos and visit an aunt you've never met before, who may or may not have three dragons?" Dacey continued, her eyebrow raised doubtfully.

"Yes," Maliya answered with a distracted frown. The dragon seemed entirely uninterested in the meat in her hand and it was beginning to worry her. Dragons ate meat, didn't they? It hadn't eaten anything since it hatched, it must be hungry. So why wasn't it eating?

"Are you alright with this?" Dacey asked, turning to Daemon in agitation.

He hadn't said a word the entire time she had been talking, just looked at her with this thoughtful expression on his face as he continued cooking the rest of the chicken that Dacey had purchased. He took his time answering, his eyes on Mailya and the dragon all the while. "Yes, I believe I am." He shrugged. "Nothing has changed, really. Even if Maliya weren't my Queen, I swore to Prince Oberyn that I would protect her with my life. Sure, she hid who she really was, but the way I see it anyone with the name Targaryen was being hunted. It makes sense that the Prince's of Dorne would want to hide that to keep her safe."

Maliya paused in her attempts to get the dragon to eat and looked up, meeting Daemon's gaze. A rush of gratitude washed over her at his words and sent him a small smile, which he returned.

"That's not what I'm having trouble accepting," Dacey argued, shifting slightly as she began to get worked up. "Your Grace, you've just faked your own death. Have you thought of the ramifications? Have you thought about what this will do to the King?"

Maliya's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do you think that I am doing this for my own sake?" She asked in a hard voice. The dragon picked its head up at the hint of anger coming through, but Maliya didn't notice. "The Lannisters must have somehow figured out who I really am. They are the ones behind the assassination attempts, only I was the target of those attacks, not Robb. I'm leaving to save his life. If the Lannisters believe that I died in that fire, then he will no longer have to worry about someone attacking him whilst he slept or poisoning his food or wine. The North does not need me, Dacey. It needs him."

Now a spark of anger entered Dacey's eyes. "No offense, Your Grace, but that is a load of shit." Maliya's eyes widened at her harsh words, taken aback. "You and Robb are married, you are the Queen in the North. You are just as important to us as he is. Through you, we have the alliance with Dorne, who have supplied us with men and whatever supplies they can give. What would your death do to that alliance? What would your death do to the King?"

The dragon let out a small cry as Maliya shook her head in frustration and she quickly ran a hand down his head to calm it. "What would have you have me do, Dacey? If I don't go to Essos, how long would it be before I am found? The Lannisters have spies all throughout Westeros. Or would you have me survive that fire at the inn, return to Robb with a small, defenseless, untrained dragon so I could put his life in even more danger?"

"Of course not," Dacey scoffed, waving her hand. "Do not be ridiculous. It is just – " She hesitated, as if just now realizing who she was speaking with. "May I speak freely, Your Grace?"

Maliya let out an exasperated laugh. "I doubt that anything I say will stop you, Dacey Mormont."

"How long do you plan to stay in Essos?" Dacey pressed, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

Maliya felt taken aback once again by her intensity and the grave expression reflected off what she could see from the small fire that they had lit. "I don't know – "

"When they discover the inn, Robb and the rest of the North are going to mourn you. They will cry and they will grieve, but Robb is a King and since you are dead, he will have to remarry." Maliya sucked in a sharp breath as the thought, one of her hands clenching into a fist so tight that her fingernails pierced her skin. The thought of another woman marrying Robb, kissing him, bearing his children was repulsive to her. Every part of her being rejected the very idea of it – the pain in her heart, the burning in her throat, the roiling in her stomach and the anger pulsing through her veins.

"What do you suggest I do?" Maliya asked in a low, strained voice.

"Talk to the King and to your uncle," she said urgently. "Let them see you and know that you are alive. Tell them what happened and tell them of this plan of yours and then if you still wish to leave Westeros, then you leave."

Maliya stared into the flames. The thought of seing Robb again filled her with a sense of both longing and fear. She knew that if she did see him, she would have to tell him everything and he was already so furious with her. They hadn't been apart long enough for his anger to have abated. Even if he did not want to see her, she was going to have to make him listen to her. And then, once he hears the truth, he might not ever forgive her for her secrets. The dragon in her lap lifted its head once more, looking towards the fire as the smell of Daemon's chicken filled their small camp.

He separated the bird between the three of them and passed out the portions. Maliya watched the dragon's eyes follow the cooked meat as she took her share from Daemon. Frowning thoughtfully, she tore off some meat and held it out to the dragon, her lips lifting when it snaked its head forward and eagerly ate the piece of meat. _Interesting,_ she thought. _So dragons would rather eat cooked meat than raw meat._

Sighing, her appetite suddenly gone, she continued to feed the dragon her portion of the chicken. "You're right," she agreed quietly after a long moment. Across from her, Dacey's shoulders sagged with relief and a brief smile crossed her face. "I have not been the best wife to Robb and he deserves to know the truth." Maliya looked down once more, watching as the dragon considered another piece of chicken for a moment before lazily snapping it up and lowering its head in her lap contentedly. "He will find out eventually, now, and I would rather he hear it from me."

Daemon frowned at her in confusion. "Would you not rather have to hide who you are anymore?" He asked. "Would you not rather be Rhaenys Targaryen?"

Maliya rested a hand on the dragon's back, marveling at the warmth she felt from it as it slept. She looked up at Daemon, her eyes full of sorrow. "I don't know how to be her," she admitted softly. "I don't know who she is."

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

"What is it that you wanted me to see, Prince Oberyn?" Robb asked, urging his horse after the Prince's with a frown. "I have commanded the men to make camp as you requested."

"It's just up ahead, Your Grace," he answered over his shoulder. Robb's frown deepened at the odd tone in his voice and the unreadable expression lurking in his eyes. "We should dismount here." Robb did as he suggested, handing the reins over to one of his men and following Prince Oberyn around the bend.

The smell of burned wood and death reached his nose before the inn came into view. His eyes trailed over the broken, abandoned structure. It appeared to have once been two floors – the outer walls were still partially standing but the insides had caved in and collapsed. "What happened here?" Robb asked in a hushed voice.

"I am not sure," Prince Oberyn admitted. "We haven't examined the building yet." He put a hand on Robb's back and gestured off to the side. "That is not why I brought you here. When my scouts rode on ahead, they found this." Robb slowly approached where the Prince was pointing and crouched down. Three men were lying on the ground, their swords still in their holsters and their throats slashed from ear to ear. "Two of these men are my own," he continued in a low voice. "They were sent with the Queen to guard her on the way to Riverrun."

"Yes," Robb croaked, a terrible feeling of fear seizing his heart. "The other is one of mine."

"What is going on?" He heard his mother ask as she approached them from behind. "Why have we stopped?"

"These men," Prince Oberyn explained in a hesitant, shaky voice. "They were part of Maliya's guard."

He heard his mother's sharp intake of breath. "You don't think that – "

"No," Robb growled, abruptly standing, and turning to glare at both of them. "Maliya is _not_ dead," he said desperately, trying to ignore the pit of dread now in his stomach. "We must search this place. If she is not here, then she is out there, somewhere, alive." He pointed a finger at both of them furiously. " _She is not dead."_

"Alright," his mother murmured soothingly, both hands held out in front of her. "Alright. Let's search the inn and see what we can find. Maybe we will be able to figure out what happened here."

 _Please_ , Robb thought frantically, praying to whichever god was listening. _Please let her be alive. I don't know how much more death I can handle. I don't how I can live on without her._

His heart pounded rapidly in his chest as he headed towards the burned down building. Each step required an extraordinary amount of effort – his legs were leaden and heavy and he had to force himself to keep moving forward. Robb was never more terrified of anything in his life than he was in that moment. Fighting a war, diving headlong into battle, becoming a King, facing Tywin Lannister himself – he would rather do all of these things than face what he might find in this inn.

Somehow, the door was still standing, though everything else seemed to be broken. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath, steeling himself before gritting his teeth and kicking the door down. It fell with a loud crash but Robb barely heard it; all he could hear was his own shallow breathing.

The setting sun shone a deceptively cheery golden glow on what was essentially a graveyard of bodies. His gaze took in his surroundings, slowly trailing over the burned and blackened skeletons that littered the floor. All evidence of who these people were had disappeared in the fire – there were no facial features or distinguishable clothing that would give any indication to their identity.

He stopped beside one of the skeletons and looked down. _Could this be Maliya? Was this all that was left of the woman that I had grown to love over the past year? The woman that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, to have children with and grow old with?_

"By the Seven," he heard his mother mutter in horror as she and Prince Oberyn entered the inn behind him. "So many bodies… so much death." Pale and wide eyed, his mother worriedly glanced at the stoic Prince of Dorne to her lost looking son. "We should - we should split up and see what we can find."

Robb gave a jerky nod and headed off in the opposite direction. His eyes took in details that his brain had trouble processing – the dozens of swords lying on the floor amongst the bodies and the lingering smell of burnt flesh. He stepped gingerly across the floor, trying to avoid stepping on any bones and carefully moved some broken pieces of wood that appeared to have fallen from the second floor.

With every passing moment without any sign of Maliya's body, Robb could feel the hope bubbling inside him. _She's not here, she's not dead,_ he reassured himself, repeating it over and over. _She escaped or was taken but she's out there somewhere, alive._

"Robb," her mother suddenly choked out in a heavy voice.

 _No._

With that one word, with the sound of his name, all his hopes came crashing down around him, leaving him unable to breathe. He didn't want to see what she found. He wanted to run away, to leave, to do anything but face the reality of what was waiting for him.

And yet, despite his wishes, his body was turning of its own volition and heading in the direction of his mother. She was kneeling on the ground when he reached her, her head bent and her shoulders hunched. Tears were streaming down her face when she looked up at him, and he could see what she was holding in her hands.

It was Maliya's crown. Feeling strangely empty, Robb reached down to take it, staring down at it wordlessly. Prince Oberyn appeared over his mother's other shoulder, letting out a string of curses that shocked her so much, she flinched through her tears. The Prince swooped down and grabbed a sword that Robb belatedly recognized as Maliya's.

Prince Oberyn looked over at Robb, his normally intimidating eyes full of desperation and fear. "This only proves that she was here," he told them quickly, shaking his head. It was almost as if he were trying to convince both them and himself that his words were true. "We don't know if any of these bones are hers, she might have had to leave these things behind in order to get away."

A glint of silver caught Robb's eye and he crouched beside his mother, moving away pieces of debris and wood from the bones closest to them. "It's her," he whispered, gazing down at the silver sun resting in the middle of his palm. He unclasped the necklace from around the neck and straightened. "I gave this to her as an engagement present. She never took it off."

For a long moment he couldn't hear anything save for the ringing in his own ears. He stared down at what was left of his wife - he couldn't think, couldn't feel, couldn't breathe – and then pain blossomed across his jaw, his eyes flying open in surprise as he stumbled back into what remained of one of the walls. His head snapped to the side and he registered pain in his eye and he hunched over with a gasp as something connected with his stomach next.

His sluggish, broken mind finally connected the dots, first realizing that someone was punching him and then looking up and seeing Prince Oberyn standing before him, his face contorted by rage and grief. "This is your fault," he roared, rearing back and punching him again. "What kind of shit King are you? How are you supposed to protect your Kingdom when you couldn't even protect your own wife? You shouldn't have sent her away, not matter what she did!" Each blow hit him with incredible speed and force, but Robb did nothing to defend himself. Why should he, when every word the Prince said was true?

"Let go of him!" Robb dimly heard his mother yelling in fear, trying to pry Prince Oberyn's arms off him. "Prince Oberyn, stop this at once! He is your King, you cannot do this!" The Prince simply shook her off with an irritated growl and pressed his forearm against Robb's throat, cutting off his air supply.

"She was my niece," Prince Oberyn hissed through clenched teeth, his voice strained with emotion, his eyes swimming with tears. "She was my _family_. She was all I had left of – " His voice broke and he stopped, taking a shuddering breath. "And now she's – now she's – "

"I'm sorry," Robb gasped against the pressure on his throat, feeling lightheaded but ignoring the pain. He didn't know what else he could say to soothe the Prince's pain. "I'm sorry."

Prince Oberyn let out a choked noise, the anger slipping from his face and devastation creeping into his watery eyes. His breath rushed out of him, his eyes closing for a moment before he staggered back several steps. Robb's mother rushed forward at once, the tears still on her cheeks as she worriedly looked Robb over, her hands gently turning his head from one side to the next to see the damage. Robb pulled his head away, watching Prince Oberyn as the man took a deep breath, suddenly looking as if he aged several years.

"You took her away from me, Robb Stark, and I will never forgive you for that," Prince Oberyn declared, straightening his shoulders even as a tear slipped down his cheek. " _Dorne_ will never forgive you," he declared, throwing him one last piercing look before stalking out of the burned down inn.

"Don't listen to him, Robb," his mother pleaded, clutching his arm. "This is not your fault! You couldn't have known that they would stop here, you couldn't have known that the inn would burn down, you couldn't have known that she would – "

"Don't," Robb spat, pulling away from her in disgust. "Don't try and pretend that this isn't my fault. Maliya wouldn't have even been here if I hadn't sent her ahead of us to Riverrun. She wouldn't have burned, she wouldn't have – she wouldn't have – " He stopped, chest heaving as he forced himself to say the words, all the while feeling as if he were going to vomit. "My wife is dead." His stomach revolted against the words and he choked out, "I need some air," before stumbling towards the exit.

He waved away the guards that moved toward him in confusion, plunging into the forest, stumbling against trees and tripping over roots until he fell to his knees, heaving and emptying the contents of his stomach. There wasn't much to begin with, he hadn't been able to eat anything after his fight with Maliya, but even still, he spent several long moments gagging so hard he thought he was going to pass out.

When it was over, he collapsed on his side, shivering slightly. He stared blankly ahead of him as the pain crashed over him in waves, consuming him so completely that he felt as if he were drowning in the agony. He welcomed it eagerly, embracing it with open arms because along with the pain came all the memories of his short time with Maliya. They were all he had left of her now, and at least that was something that he couldn't lose.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

"Are you alright, Your Grace?" Dacey asked, watching her in concern from where she was sitting by the fire. Maliya was currently pacing back and forth, biting the nail of her thumb as she wore a path in the dirt. Her dragon was contendedly lying across her right shoulder, giving the occasional yawn now that it was full. Even the cuteness of that action couldn't distract her. Anxiety filled every inch of her body, overriding her aches and the burning in her back. She couldn't sit still; even her mind was jumping from one thought to the next.

"I am the furthest I've ever been from alright," Maliya admitted in a low voice. "My husband hates me and now I'm going to have to somehow explain to him that I've lied to him for our whole marriage, that I managed to hatch a dragon and that he has to pretend that I'm dead while I travel halfway around the world to see an aunt I've never met before!" She scoffed, rolling her eyes at herself. "Seven Hells, saying it out loud sounds completely…. mad," she finished, faltering over the word slightly with a frown as she thought of her grandfather.

"The King does not hate you," Dacey disagreed gently, shaking her head. "In fact, I've never seen a man look at a woman the way that he looks at you. As if you were exactly what he was looking for and everything he ever wanted."

Maliya's throat was burning and she had to turn her face away to hide the fact that she was blinking away tears. "He's a good man," Maliya whispered, feeling absolutely wretched. "And if I were a better person, I would say that maybe he would be better off marrying another woman." She looked back over at Dacey, her eyes glinting in the fire. "But I'm not. I can't lose Robb, Dacey. I just can't."

Dacey's gaze was sympathetic. "The plan is sound, Your Grace. We've moved closer to where the Northern army is camped and it is dark enough that Daemon believes that he will be able to sneak into Prince Oberyn's camp and meet with him alone. The Prince will think of a way to convince Robb to leave the camp without anyone noticing him and Daemon will bring them here. The rest will be up to you. If you don't want to lose your husband, you are going to have to convince him that what you're doing is right."

* * *

 **Robb's POV**

Robb stared sullenly into the empty cup of wine in his hand. He could feel the beginnings of a buzz trickling through his veins already and he knew that he shouldn't have another cup, but at the moment he wanted nothing more than to drown in the wine and forget this terrible pain in his chest. Even more than that though, he wanted to escape his own mind.

It kept replaying everything from the past day. Finding the burned down inn and realizing that Maliya had been caught in it and that it was completely his fault that she was dead. Oberyn's grief and his declaration that Dorne will never forget Robb's part in Maliya's death. His mother comforting him out in the woods and sitting with him until he composed himself. The looks of pity and sympathy he received from his men when he made it back to their temporary camp and the realization that word had already spread. The stoic expression on Lady Mormont's face, both pride and tears shining from her eyes as Robb told her what happened. And finally, Tyene Sand flying at him in a rage as she screamed at him, only to be caught around the waist by her father and collapsing to the ground, sobbing.

As much as he was ashamed to admit it, he still felt a lot of lingering anger. Maybe he had no right to anymore, but he was still mad at Maliya. Why had she been drinking that Moon Tea? Why didn't she want a child with him? And why hadn't she talked to him about it? There were so many things he still wanted to ask her, so many things he wanted to say to her. And now he would never get the chance.

He refilled his cup and took another long swig, his hand gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He didn't know how to deal with all these feelings of grief, loss, rage and devastation. He felt untethered from reality, lost, adrift almost.

How was he supposed to survive this when the love of his life was gone forever? How was he supposed to live when it felt like his heart had been torn out of his chest?

"Lady Talisa to see you, Your Grace," one of the guards announced.

"Send her in," Robb croaked, taking another drink.

Lady Talisa entered the tent, a bag of supplies in her hand and her eyes downcast. "Your Grace," she murmured shakily, giving him a small curtsy. "Your mother – Lady Stark – she came to us and said that you might need a healer." Her eyes flicked up to look at Robb, taking in the various cuts and bruises on his face, courtesy of Prince Oberyn.

Robb nodded once, giving his permission. She cautiously approached him, kneeling beside the chair where he was sitting and opening her bag. He closed his eyes as she gently turned his face towards her and began to clean it. Her hands were soft against his face, her touch gentle as she put some sort of cream in the cuts. With the buzz running through his body and his eyes closed, Robb could _almost_ pretend that it was Maliya with him, taking care of him.

The longing in him was so strong that he didn't want to open his eyes and look at her, even when she spoke. "You are lucky, Your Grace, there is nothing that needs stitching. If you keep these wounds clean, they will close on their own and the bruises will fade." Robb didn't answer and Lady Talisa spoke again. "Is there anything else that requires my attention?"

"No," Robb muttered, choosing not to mention the bruises across his stomach.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," Lady Talisa blurted suddenly, sounding as if she had been trying to hold her words back and lost. "I never meant to find the Moon Tea ingredients and I never intended to cause that fight between you and the Queen. I apologize for all the problems and pain that I caused – "

"The fault was not yours, Lady Talisa," Robb interrupted brusquely, not wanting to relive that fight any longer. "My wife should have told me that she was taking the Moon Tea instead of hiding it."

"All the same, I'm sorry," she murmured insistently, placing a hand on his arm and looking up at him with wide eyes. "I'm sorry about your wife. I can't even begin to imagine the pain that you must be feeling. If you need anything, I'm here for you."

Robb's eyes opened at her words and he slowly turned his head to look down at her face, which was flickering in the candle light. He wasn't sure if it was what she meant, but for just a moment he could picture losing himself in this woman who was so like Maliya. Perhaps with a bit more wine and his imagination, he could bring his wife to back to life, if only for a little while.

He must have unconsciously leaned toward her in his temptation, because her eyes flickered down to his lips. The action was small and seemingly innocent, but it filled Robb with a bitter taste of self-loating and revulsion. He abruptly pulled his arm away from Lady Talisa's grip and lurched to his feet, causing her to flinch.

"I just lost my wife," Robb said in a shaky voice, turning away from her to put his cup on the table. _Had he really just been about to completely tarnish Maliya's memory with one extremely selfish act? What was wrong with him?_

"I'm sorry," Lady Talisa gasped, a trembling hand raised to her lips as she stood. "You – you're just so easy to talk with and I've felt this connection – I'm so sorry, Your Grace, I forgot my place."

He felt his King in the North face slipping on as he turned to look at her, noting the horrified, stricken expression on her own face. "You're a lovely woman, Lady Talisa, but my heart belongs to my wife. I could never betray her like that, even if she is… gone," he told her, nearly choking on that last word. "I think from this point on, it would be best if there were some boundaries. You are a healer and I am King of the Northern army. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Lady Talisa whispered. Her gaze was trained on the ground, but Robb could still see the sheen of tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she repeated, curtesying quickly before practically fleeing the tent.

Robb let out an exhausted groan once she was gone, rubbing his hand over his face wearily without thinking and wincing in pain. How did everything get so fucked up within the span of a couple days?

A noise came from behind him and Robb whirled, his hand fumbling from his sword, cursing his muddled mind as he noticed a cloaked figure in black standing at the back of his tent. He had just managed to pull the sword free when the figure pushed his hood back. "Prince Oberyn," Robb greeted lowly, shifting his grip as his eyes tried to decipher the unreadable expression on the other man's face. "Are you here to kill me?"

Prince Oberyn didn't move for a long moment, merely stared at him with those incredibly intense eyes as Robb tried his best not to squirm uncomfortably. "After my declaration in front of your mother this morning, it would be unwise of me to kill you."

"Then what are you doing here?" Robb demanded, slamming his sword back in its sheath. Anger rose inside him, making his head and the cuts on his face throb in time with his heart. "If you're here to blame me further for what happened to Maliya, you can save it for another time. Nothing you say will be any worse than what I've already said to myself."

Prince Oberyn ignored him completely. "Tell your guards that you are going to sleep and that you aren't to be disturbed for the rest of the night. Wait ten minutes after I've gone, then sneak out the back of your tent, wearing your cloak so no one will recognize you. Meet me at the south of the camp as quickly as you can." Robb frowned and opened his mouth to speak but Oberyn cut him off. "Don't ask me why because I have no idea myself. All I know is that one of the men who I sent with Maliya, Ser Daemon, just snuck into camp to see me. He's alive, but he said he would explain everything away from the camp." Robb's heart gave a strange tumble in his chest at the news. "Ten minutes," he reminded Robb, before crouching at the back of Robb's tent, checking the coast was clear and slipping out into the darkness.

 _What in the Seven Hells…_ Robb stood there, staring at the spot where Prince Oberyn had just disappeared in complete confusion. Ser Daemon survived the fire at the inn? How was that possible? Why had he snuck into the camp in the middle of the night and why did they have to leave in order to hear what happened?

A small part of his mind was concerned that this was either some sort of trap of an elaborate plan by Prince Oberyn to kill him away from his guards. Unfortunately, however, Robb didn't have much choice. He was going to have to follow the instructions given to him if he wanted to find out what happened to Maliya in that inn.

After informing his guards that he was retiring for the night, he belted a small dagger around his waist in addition to his sword just in case. He extinguished all the candles, swung his cloak over his shoulders and pulled up the hood. He copied Prince Oberyn's actions, crouching at the back of the tent to make sure no one was coming before slipping out of it.

He made sure to keep his pace casual so as not to draw suspicion as he headed to the south of the camp. There were a few instances where he had to pause in the darkness of the tents, away from the light of the torches so a passing soldier wouldn't recognize him. His heart was pounding a frantic rhythm in his chest as adrenaline pumped through his body. For the moment, at least, he was thinking of something other than the crippling pain in his mind and heart.

Prince Oberyn was waiting for him at the very edge of camp. Robb wasn't sure how he managed to temporarily get rid of the guards, but he wasn't about to ask and find out. Prince Oberyn put his finger to his lips and snuck off further away from camp, quickly crossing the clearing and slipping into the forest to the south. Waiting for them just inside the tree line was a man that Robb vaguely recognized as Ser Daemon. From what Robb could see through the darkness, the man definitely looked as if he had been in a fight. His left eye was blackened and swollen shut, and he had a split lip and a bandage around his left wrist.

Both Robb and Prince Oberyn approached him quickly, questions in their eyes, but before they could say anything, Ser Daemon held up his good hand, stopping them. "I know you're both probably terribly confused, but I'm going to ask you to wait until we reach our destination. I promise that everything will be explained and all your questions will be answered, but not here. Alright?"

"You better deliver on that promise, Ser Daemon," Robb warned, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "I have little to no patience for anybody wasting my time today."

"I understand, Your Grace," Ser Daemon told him, his eyes sympathetic. "I can assure you that I am not wasting your time. This is something that you have to hear." Robb nodded once and Ser Daemon started off immediately. "We're not going too far, just about a mile up ahead," he assured them over his shoulder.

They walked through the darkness in silence. Robb's eyes were trained on Ser Daemon, a small frown playing around the edges of his lips as he tried to comprehend what seemed so "off" about the Dornish man. His expression was solemn, and the look in his eyes were serious, which told Robb that he understood the gravity of the situation. There was this strange energy surrounding him, however, one that confused Robb completely. It was almost a sense of excitement or anticipation – he certainly didn't look like a man who had just lost his Queen and friend. What in the seven hells was going on and where was Ser Daemon taking them?

Robb's teeth grinded together with every moment that passed by, his annoyance only growing when it seemed like they would never stop walking. It was nearly impossible to see anything in the darkness and he kept stumbling on roots and rocks on the ground. He was just about to demand Ser Daemon to stop and tell them where they were going, when he spotted a small fire in a clearing up ahead. His hand drifted to the pommel of his sword, wary of an impending trap as his pace automatically slowed.

Ser Daemon kept moving towards the fire unconcernedly, but Robb stopped at the edge of the tree line, his eyes taking in his surroundings. A tall figure was standing on one side of the fire closest to them and it turned when they approached. Robb blinked in shocked confusion as he recognized Dacey, looking slightly beat up, but definitely not like the burnt skeleton he had told her mother that she was. Mouth slightly parted, eyes wide, it slammed into him that if both Dacey and Daemon had surivived the fire then…

His head snapped around and there she was, half turned towards him, and then their eyes met. So many different emotions flooded through Robb, stealing his breath and making him feel light-headed. Relief that made him want to fall to his knees, a happiness that made his throat burn and his heart beat faster and but most of all, an overwhelming feeling of hope. Hope that swelled in his chest, a burning light that started to chase away the darkness that had consumed him ever since he thought Maliya was dead.

She was alive. She was beautiful. And the future that Robb thought was gone forever was suddenly possible once more.

He wanted to run to her, to gather her in his arms and never let her go. Yet he couldn't forget the fact that she had kept the Moon Tea from him, he couldn't forget the confusion and anger that was still lingering inside him. For the past several hours, he had believed that the woman he loved was dead. He had hoped, prayed and wished that she was alive and now that she was standing right in front of him, he had no idea what to say to her. He was determined, however, that from now on, there was going to be an open line of communication – no more secrets on either side.

And apparently, that was going to start right now, because when Maliya turned fully to face him, there was no mistaking the small white dragon sitting on her shoulder.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

Maliya cautiously watched the different emotions play across Robb's battered and bruised face. In her whole life she couldn't remember ever feeling this much anxiety about everything. Her entire future was resting on this moment, on this explanation. She cannot fail – it wasn't an option.

She had been so engrossed in Robb's reaction that she nearly forgot anyone else was in the camp clearing until her uncle uttered her name in a strangled voice and started towards her with an expression of joy and relief. Maliya tore her eyes away from Robb and turned to smile at her uncle, who hesitated only slightly when the dragon hissed warningly at him before pulling her into a tight one armed, half hug over her unoccupied shoulder.

His arm pressed against the cut across her back and she involuntarily let out a hiss of pain. Her uncle released her immediately, pulling back to stare down at her in concern. "Are you alright?" He asked, his voice gruff with emotion. He squinted in what little light the small campfire offered, gently lifting her chin so he could peer at the hand shaped bruises already forming on her neck. "Who did this to you? What happened at that inn? And how did you get the egg to hatch?" He asked, glancing at the dragon with shining, incredulous eyes.

The dragon shook out its small wings in irritation and let out a sharp cry, causing Maliya to look over at it with narrowed eyes. "Hush now. Uncle Oberyn is family, we like him. Play nice." Its yellow eyes looked over at her before it settled down, folding its wings again but turning to watch Uncle Oberyn again.

"We'll give you all a few minutes to talk," Dacey told them uncomfortably, shooting Maliya an encouraging smile before placing a hand on Daemon's shoulder and steering him away from the campfire.

Maliya swallowed harshly, her eyes flickering to Robb, who hadn't moved, and back again. "Maybe you both should sit," she murmured, gesturing to the campfire. She sat on ground, trying to take comfort from the heat of the flames against her body as her uncle obligingly sat on her right side. Robb hesitated, his jaw working, before slowly coming over and perching on a fallen tree to her left. Taking a deep breath, she tried to ignore her heart as it picked up at his nearness. "We stopped by the inn on the way to Riverrun. It was deserted; there was only the innkeeper and her children and it seemed as if they hadn't had visitors in days. Everything was fine up until halfway through supper. Over a dozen men came into the inn, pretending to order food and drink. When the little boy went outside to help with their horses, they – " She broke off as guilt crashed over her once more. The death of that entire family was on her shoulders. "They killed him and the guards that we had stationed outside. They attacked our group with the intent to kill me and in the fight, the fire started. I was chased to the second floor with the daughter of the innkeeper and we became trapped up. The fire spread and consumed us – I thought I was going to die," she murmured, looking down at the dragon and it crawled down her arm to lie comfortably in her lap. Its golden eyes closed contentedly as she ran a finger down the scales on its neck. "I was holding the egg when the flames reached us. I could feel them them on my skin, but I felt no pain. The girl… she died."

"And the men sent to kill you?" Her uncle questioned, leaning forward with his eyes glinting. "Who were they?"

"We're not sure," Maliya admitted, shaking her head. "They had no identifying sigils or colors and they weren't exactly forthcoming with who hired them." She hesitated. "If I had to guess, however, I would say that they were Lannister men."

Her uncle was staring at both her and the dragon with a mixture of awe and understanding on his face, but Robb frowned and shook his head in frustration. "None of this makes sense," he argued, eyes narrowed. Maliya forced herself to pay attention to what he was saying rather than the sound of his slightly raspy voice washing over her. "Why would Tywin Lannister send men to kill you? Where did you even get a dragon egg? And how could you have survived a fire that literally burned a building to the ground?"

Maliya's mouth suddenly went dry and she unconsciously glanced over to Uncle Oberyn. He gave her the barest of nods and her heart broke out into a sprint. This was it. The moment she had been both looking forward to and dreading for so many moons now. "I'm going to see how Daemon's doing," her uncle announced, gracefully rising to his feet and disappearing into the darkness of the trees.

Robb's blue eyes followed her uncle until he was gone before turning back to her. She could feel his gaze on her and she reluctantly looked over at him, taking a deep breath to steel herself. "I'm not entirely sure how I survived the fire," she began, her mind automatically flashing back so that she was once more trapped in the leaping flames. "But I think… I think it's because Rhaegar Targaryen is my father." Maliya paused, her eyes flickering over Robb's face, but besides the look of shock and confusion in his expression, he didn't speak. "Rhaegar and Elia Martell were my parents and I was born as Rhaenys Targaryen. I was smuggled out of King's Landing when I was three and sent to my Uncle Doran and Uncle Oberyn. My father, mother and brother were all killed and my uncles thought it safest if the rest of Westeros thought I was dead as well. Doran accepted me into his family without question and I became Maliya Martell."

Robb's head tilted to the side slightly, and for a moment he looked like a boy of seven and ten instead of the King in the North. "Rhaenys Targaryen?" He questioned, the name sounding odd coming out of his mouth. "But she died, there was a body – "

Maliya shook her head. "It wasn't me. Whoever took me out of King's Landing must have found a a girl that looked like me and left her in my place."

Robb looked slightly revolted at the thought of it and Maliya couldn't blame him. "If you're really Rhaenys, then why didn't you just tell me?" He asked in a frustrated voice. "We've been married for over a year, Maliya, you've had so many opportunities! I can understand why you didn't tell me in the beginning, but you could have said something when we began to trust and love each other! Instead, you lied." He spat the word, the anger in his voice making Maliya flinch slightly. "You lied and you kept secrets from me."

"I know," Maliya whispered, the guilt making her stomach turn unpleasantly. "It's killed me to keep this from you, but you have to understand. From the time I was three, I was told that if I revealed who I really was, the Baratheons and the Lannisters would come after me and everyone that I loved. I've lived in fear for most of my life. Part of the reason why I wanted to learn how to fight was to protect myself and the other part was because I wanted the people responsible for the murder of my family to pay. I think, somehow, the Lannisters must have found out who I really was and that's why they sent men to kill me."

Realization dawned on him. "If you're really Rhaegar Targaryen's daughter, then you are the rightful heir to the Iron Throne." His eyes drifted down to the white dragon in her lap. "Although if I'm not hallucinating and you really do have a dragon, then I suppose that's all the proof people will need to believe that you're a Targaryen."

"You're not hallucinating," Maliya responded, also glancing down. "I found the egg in the crypts of Winterfell, behind a secret passage in Cregan Stark's tomb. I'm not really sure how I found it. I had some sort of dream or vision that led me there." Robb blinked at her words and opened his mouth as if to ask a question but decided against it, shaking his head. They both lapsed into silence, but it wasn't a comfortable one that Maliya was accustomed to. She shifted restlessly, her eyes jumping from Robb to the forest, to the dragon and back again. "I know you must hate me, but – "

"I don't hate you," Robb interrupted sharply. "I'm angry with you, Maliya. I've never been so angry and so – " He broke off and looked away, jaw working. It was a moment before he turned back to look at her. "I thought I knew who you were. I thought you were someone that I could trust and rely on, but it turns out that I don't know you at all. Honestly, Maliya, I don't know how we are going to get past this."

Maliya swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat even as she was blinking back the tears in her eyes. She had mentally prepared for this outcome, but it still made her heart sink all the way down to her stomach. "I have been a terrible wife to you," she agreed, unable to hide the raw emotion in her voice. "And I don't blame you for being furious with me. I've lied and kept things from you, it's true, but never once did I fake my feelings for you." She gazed up at him imploringly, willing him to believe her. She wanted to move closer to him, but forced herself to stay where she was in case it made the situation worse. "When I used to imagine my future, all I saw was getting my revenge. It consumed me the same way that it consumes my uncle and my father. I never pictured marrying someone like you, and I certainly never imagined falling in love with you. You can believe me or not, Robb, but I love you, more than I would have thought possible."

"What about the Moon Tea?" He asked, his fist clenching and unclenching on his lap. The expression on his face was carefully guarded, which was completely opposite to the way that Maliya was opening her heart to him.

A tear streamed down her cheek at this moment and she wiped it away, never breaking their eye contact. "I started drinkng the Moon Tea because I didn't want kids," she told him. "They would have just gotten in the way of my plans. Then the more I fell in love with you, the more I saw how great a father you would be, everything changed. I stopped taking the Moon Tea, Robb, just over two moons ago."

Robb shook his head, bewildered. "Why didn't you say anything?"

She gave him a sad smile. "You didn't give me the chance. Besides, it doesn't change what I did or the fact that I kept it from you. I just… I'm sorry, Robb. For everything."

He nodded slowly, but she wasn't sure if that meant he accepted her apology. She watched the light of

the flames dance over his face as he stared into the fire for a long moment. "Where do we go from here?" He asked her without looking up. "How do we move past this when the trust is broken? How do we move past this when everytime I look at you, I'm reminded of all the things you've kept from me?"

"I don't know," Maliya admitted helplessly. The nerves came back full force as she prepared to broach the subject about going overseas. "But I do know that I have to lay low for a while. Besides you, Uncle Oberyn, Daemon and Dacey, the North believes that I am dead. The news will travel back to the Lannisters and they will stop sending assassins after me. You almost got caught in the crossfire twice Robb, it's safer for you without me around."

A frown was on Robb's face again. "So we send you to Riverrun or North – "

Maliya was already shaking her head. "Theon burned Winterfell to the ground and the Lannisters have spies throughout Westeros. It would only be a matter of time before they learned that I was alive."

"So what do you suggest we do?" He growled in frustration.

Another deep breath. "I'm going across the Narrow Sea."

"Abosultely not – "

"Robb, please just listen," she insisted, raising her voice above his and he broke off, jaw working once more, angrily gesturing her on. "I'm not the last Targaryen alive. I have an Aunt Danaerys and my uncle says that she's in Astapor with _three_ dragons of her own. I want to go find her. Not only would it allow me to leave Westeros, but I'm not just thinking for myself anymore." She glanced down at the slumbering dragon in her lap and marveled at the strong attachment she already felt to it. "It's too small and weak to defend itself and I do not know how to care for it. My aunt will. Can you imagine, Robb?" She looked up, eyes shining. "Imagine if I came back with a Targaryen ally and four well trained dragons. Perhaps we could make an alliance with her like the one we tried to make with Renly Baratheon. We would help her win the Iron Throne if she would give the North their independence."

"It sounds insane, Maliya," Robb admitted with a derisive snort, shaking his head. "You're going to travel halfway around the world to find an aunt you've never met, who may or may not be in Astapor and who may or may not have dragons. What if she's like the Mad King? What if she kills you and takes your dragon as her own?"

"What if finding her and becoming her ally is what wins us this war?" Maliya countered with a shrug. "I know it's a risk, but it's one that I'm willing to take – "

"Seven hells," Robb swore, startling her as he abruptly stood and stalked a short distance away from the fire before stopping and turning back around, gesturing angrily. "How is you leaving going to solve any of our problems?"

Maliya carefully put the sleeping dragon next to the fire and stood with a wince. She cautiously moved several steps closer to him, stopping when she saw the wariness in his eyes. "As much as I don't want to leave you, Robb, I think some time apart will be good for us," she told him gently. "Things were said on both sides and both of us came away hurt. When you parted the other day you said you needed some time to think and you now you just said you can't look at me without feeling that anger. Also," she looked away, feeling incredibly vulnerable. "I feel like I _need_ to do this. Rhaenys is supposed to be dead, now everyone thinks Maliya is dead." She shook her head miserably. "I've been terrible to you, Robb. A terrible wife and a terrible friend. This whole time I've been trying to protect you and instead all I've done is hurt you. It's the last thing I ever wanted to do. I just… I don't know who I am anymore. I mean, I know I'm a wife, a sister, a niece and a daughter. But without those things…." She trailed off, shrugging helplessly before taking a breath and looking back up at him. "If you ask me to stay, I will. I have no right to leave without your blessing."

Troubled, Robb looked away from her, gazing into the fire once more. She waited anxiously for him to speak again, completely unsure of what he would say next. "Maybe you're right…maybe we do need some space," he mused softly, thinking out loud. "It feels like the easy way out in a way, doesn't it? Like we're both pushing our problems to the side so we don't have to deal with it?"

"Maybe," Maliya answered, feeling a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. "But I prefer to look at it as both of us taking the time to think. I need to come to terms with what I've done and you need to decide if you can forgive me. Only then will we be able to fix what was broken. If that's what you want to do," Maliya added softly, acknowledging that he may decide that he didn't want to repair their marriage. It killed her to think about, but after everything that she had done, he was within his right to do so. "Nobody besides you, my uncle, Dacey and Daemon can know that I'm alive," she reminded him. "You're going to have to act like I'm dead – bury the girls bones, mourn me, do whatever it takes to make Westeros think that I am dead."

"I can send more men with you – "

"Too risky," Maliya disagreed immediately. "It will look suspicious."

"Fine, then I'm at least sending Dacey with you." She nodded again, conceding his point and there was a long, slightly awkward moment of silence. Hesitating slightly, Robb slowly moved closer until he was in front of her. "Be careful out there, Maliya. Don't be gone too long."

"I'll come back as soon as I convince my aunt to join us," she promised, tilting her head back to look up at him. "You may not believe it or want to hear this right now, but I love you, Robb."

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she waited for him to respond. "I'm really glad that you're alive, Maliya," was all he said. She wanted to hear him say that he loved her too, but had to accept his response considering everything that she had just told him. He gently pulled her into a hug then and she wrapped her arms around his waist, closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him.

"You both should probably be heading back before anyone realizes that you're gone," she said, pulling back slightly. "We've stayed here too long as it is." He nodded in agreement, but neither of them moved. Maliya's breath caught as Robb's eyes flickered down to her lips. It looked as if he were warring with himself for a moment before he gave in and lowered his head. The kiss was different than any of the ones that they shared in the past. It was a chaste kiss, lacking the passion that it usually shared. Both of them were cautious and unsure of their movements and she could practically taste the confusion of their feelings in it. The truth of the matter was, she didn't know if her and Robb would ever be able to repair their relationship. She wanted to say that things would go back to the way they were, but she was keeping secrets from him from the very beginning. She wanted to be a better wife, a better Queen, a better person. She wanted to be someone that Robb deserved.

They both heard sounds of people approaching and pulled away, awkwardness settling between them as they looked everywhere but at each other. Dacey, Daemon and her uncle came towards them, looking between them expectantly. "There's no shouting," Dacey said cautiously, raising her eyebrows. "Is everything alright?"

They both nodded and Uncle Oberyn came towards her, placing his hands on her shoulders affectionately. "Daemon told me what you are planning," he said softly, his gaze worried. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure," Maliya responded, her voice firm. "I want to find my last living Targaryen relative and learn how to train and take care of my dragon but most of all I need to figure out who I really am."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Doran may have sent me away, but my adventures across the Narrow Sea helped make me the person that I am today. I know exactly who you are, but I support you in whatever you need. Be careful, sweet niece," he murmured, pulling her into a tight hug. "We will be here when you come back."

"You better," she answered, her voice muffled slightly in his cloak. She pulled back, looking between the two of the people she loved most in the world and fighting a sense of panic. "Take care of each other. I'll be back before you know it."

"Your Grace," Dacey said, stepping forward and looking towards Robb, her arms clasped behind her back. "I would like to accompany the Queen on her journey, if that's alright with you. I promise to keep her safe, to protect her with my life if need be."

"I appreciate that, Dacey," Robb responded. He attempted a smile but it looked more like a grimace. His expression was blank again, his blue eyes closed off. "I'll feel infinitely better knowing that you are with her. This means that your mother will have to continue believing that you're dead, though, until you all return."

Guilt and regret flickered across Dacey's face, but just as quickly it was gone and her expression was set. "I understand, but it doesn't change my mind. Guarding the Queen is more important and she will understand that."

"I'll be going as well," Daemon announced, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. "Obviously."

"Thank you," Maliya murmured, looking at them gratefully. "Both of you."

"We should return to camp," Uncle Oberyn said, glancing over at Robb who nodded once. "Goodbye, Maliya. Remember to always be on your guard. The rest of the world is very different than Westeros, so be careful who you trust."

She made a noise of agreement in her throat, her eyes closing as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Goodbye, Uncle," she whispered. "I know you can't tell Tyene that I'm alive, but please make sure she knows I love her."

"I will."

He pulled away and when her eyes opened again, Robb was stepping in front of her. Her eyes searched his face, trying to decipher the unreadable emotions lurking in his own blue eyes, but she couldn't help acknowledging the increased distance between them. For the first time in a long time, she couldn't guess what he was thinking or feeling and that scared her. "Goodbye, Maliya," he said softly, lowering his head to press a kiss to her cheek. She couldn't help thinking back to the last time they said goodbye. He knew everything now, but there was still this incredible sadness around her heart. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

"Goodbye, Robb." She blinked rapidly to clear away the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She had accomplished what she set out to do, she had convinced Robb to let her leave Westeros and she knew deep down inside her that this was what she was meant to do. But would this decision mean the end of her marriage?

She took a deep breath as Robb stepped back away from her, turning away from everyone and bending to pick up her still sleeping dragon, taking the time to clear the emotion from her face. "Have you thought about a name for your dragon?" Her uncle asked, all of them marveling at the small creature once more.

"I have, actually," Maliya answered, cradling it closer to her and smiling softly when it snuggled closer. "I see no discernible signs of its gender, but I've decided to call it Meraxes." She looked up to see varying degrees of blank stares. "I've named it after – "

"After the first Rhaenys Targaryen's dragon," her uncle finished, smiling in approval at her. "I like it. Keep them safe, you two," he ordered, looking between Daemon and Dacey. "And come home soon."

"We will," both Dacey and Daemon promised.

Maliya lifted her hand in farewell, doing her best to smile as she looked at her uncle and her husband one last time before they left to head back to camp. She felt a pang of fear run through her at the thought of leaving them, but she also felt excited and nervous about the journey ahead. She was going to find her family, she was going to learn how to care for her dragon and then she was going to win back her husband's trust.

* * *

 **Author's Note: So there it is! I really hope you all liked what I came up with. I agree that Maliya and Robb's relationship probably wouldn't have been able to be repaired if she just left Westeros without telling him. This is why I love when you guys review because it opens me up to new ideas that I hadn't thought of before.**

 **So now Robb knows that Maliya is alive and while he's incredibly happy and relieved, it doesn't change the fact that Maliya has lied and hurt him. I wanted to show that even though they both still obviously love each other, it is going to take some time and effort on both their parts in order to fix what's been broken.**

 **What do you guys think of Maliya's identity confusion? And what about the dragon's name? Hope you all liked my choice!**

 **Next chapter: Maliya, Daemon and Dacey begin their journey to Astapor. If you guys have anything you want to see happen when Maliya meets up with Dany now's the time to get your suggestions in!**

Guest 1 - I'm so glad that you liked the last chapter! Sorry for the slow update, but here's the newest one!

Guest 2 - Thanks for your review! That was a bit of a rollercoaster, wasn't it? I think both of them are technically right. Maliya is doing what she thinks is right to keep Robb safe but they probably are stronger together, just not when there's no trust between them. Maliya can't go meet Dany with a small guard because it will look suspicious, but Dacey and Daemon will both be going with her to keep her safe.

Guest 3 - Thanks for reviewing, I'm so glad you loved the chapter. I hope you like this one just as much!

Charlie - I'm so happy that I was able to put you through an emotional rollercoaster haha. My main goal for this story is to get you to feel what the characters are feeling. I definitely understand where you're coming from and you're one of the reviewers that made me rethink where I was taking the story. Robb is now clued into their plan and though he's still hurt, there's more of a chance for them to work out their issues when she gets back.

Guest 4 - Don't freak out! Actually do, lol, I put you guys through an emotional wringer. I hope you enjoyed Robb's reaction to her death and his reaction when he saw her alive again! Thanks for reviewing.

Guest 5 - Thanks for your review! I'm glad you thought this chapter was incredible. I hope you liked this chapter as well.

SillyHasil - She certainly is half Targaryen. In the show they make Dany completely fire-proof but Maliya definitely isn't like that. The best explanation that I can give you is that her dragon egg was going to hatch and it protected her from the flames. I'm sorry if that answer doesn't satisfy you, but well, it's a fictional world and story :)

Marvelmyra - I appreciate your thoughts and opinions on the story but you don't have to point out all the typos that I make. I don't have a beta and I'm sure there are many. I don't really find it all that disturbing that she dreamed of her father and Lyanna amongst her enemies. Her father abandoned her and her family and the pair of them caused all of Westeros to dissolve into war and chaos with thousands of people dying. Yes, no one quite knows Bolton involvement quite yet, but it will eventually come out.

Reader - Thanks for your review. Maliya and Robb were pretty hot and heavy during this chapter and so there is the definite possibility that she could be pregnant. I guess we will have to wait and see! So many people were complaining about Talisa so I added her into this chapter. Hope you liked it!

Guest 6 - In Talisa's defense, she didn't meant to tell Robb about the Moon Tea, it was just a wrong place and time situation. Hopefully you liked Robb's reaction to her in this chapter!

Ryan - Thanks for your review and your kind words! I wish I had more free time too, but unfortunately real life takes over and there's less time for writing. You were definitely right about Robb and Oberyn's reaction! Hope you liked this chapter.

Guest 7 - Glad you liked it, here's the new chapter!

Guest 8 - Here's the update, sorry it took so long!


	26. Obstacles

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you so much for the all the reviews and the kind words, your support only makes me want to write this story faster! I'm glad most of you are enjoying the story so far and I hope you like the little twist that I've come up with in this chapter. Be sure to let me know what you think :)**

* * *

Chapter 26: Obstacles

Swallowing a groan, Maliya squinted and blinked rapidly in the bright light. She sat up and rotated the pins and needles out of her right arm with a wince and a frown. When did she even fall asleep? Looking around, her eyes fell on Meraxes who let out a yawn to match hers, looking as sleepy as she still felt. "Seven hells, Dacey, I'm sorry, I hadn't meant to fall asleep," Maliya apologized, looking over at the other woman, who was keeping watch.

"No need to apologize, Your Grace," Dacey replied easily. "With everything that you've been going through recently, it's bound to take a toll on your body. It's no wonder that you're so tired lately."

"I don't have time to be tired," Maliya frowned, feeling incredibly annoyed with herself. She forced herself to sit up further, angrily rubbing the heels of her palms over her eyes until she saw bright spots. "We've already lingered here for too long making that contraption for Meraxes." They both glanced over at the small crate contraption that Daemon designed and had built in town. "We're going to have to keep her fed and happy before putting her in there, she's going to hate it."

Dacey's gaze was understanding. "It feels wrong to even think about putting a dragon in a cage," she said, her tone gentling. "But we've talked through all our options. There's no way to smuggle her on a ship without some way to conceal her. Thankfully both Meraxes and the cage are small enough for us to carry and we can just throw a cloak over it."

Maliya nodded, looking down and lying a hand on Meraxes' side as she leisurely stretched. "How long has Daemon been gone for? Do you think he's had any luck today?"

"I hope so," Dacey said, glancing over her shoulder to where Daemon disappeared to an hour or two ago. "Saltpans isn't the biggest trading port, but it's been three days now and different ships are coming and going everyday." Dacey patted the bag next to her. "We can cook the rest of the chicken as soon Daemon comes back and gives us the all clear. Then you can feed it to Meraxes before we board the ship."

"Actually, I was thinking about that," Maliya said slowly, glancing up at Dacey speculatively. "How would you feel if I asked you to feed her?"

Dacey's eyes widened drastically and Maliya didn't miss the flicker of fear in her eyes as they flickered to the white dragon. "Me? Feed her? Why? Shouldn't you do it?"

"I've had Meraxes for less than a fortnight and she's already been hostile anytime any one has tried to approach me," Maliya answered, shifting as she voiced something that had been worrying her for a while now. "I don't want her to be aggressive with people I consider friends and family. We're going to be spending a lot of time in close quarters and I want her to be comfortable around both you and Daemon. It might take some time, but I figure the best way to get her to like you is if you both are giving her something that she needs and wants, which is food."

Dacey glanced at the dragon warily again but before she could answer, a figure in a cloak stepped out from between the trees. She swiftly stood, her sword half out of its sheath before Daemon lowered his hood, his hands raised and a satisfied grin on his face. "I'm guessing from the look on your face that you've finally had some success?" Maliya asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I did," Daemon confirmed, his grin growing as Dacey shoved her sword back in its sheath with an annoyed look and sat back down. "After days of haggling and looking at ships with absolutely disgusting conditions, I finally found one that suits our needs. As close to what we need as I'm going to be able to find, anyway."

"What does that mean?" Maliya asked with a frown.

"Saltpans isn't one of Westeros' main trading ports and according to the captains that I've spoken to, word is spreading that most of Westeros has dissolved into war, which means thst most of the people who could afford to buy such luxuries as Myrish lace are now spending their coins on this war," Daemon explained, collapsing next to the both of them with a sigh. "We would be waiting here forever trying to find a ship that would take us directly to Astapor, but I think I've found the next best thing. There's a small ship that's headed to Myr. The captain says there are several trading cogs and carracks that travel to the other Free Cities as well as Slaver's Bay."

"So we can take this ship to Myr, then take another ship to Astapor," Dacey concluded, nodding slowly.

"It looks like our only choice," Daemon told them, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Especially if we want to travel to Astapor by sea instead of over land."

"Traveling by land is too risky with Meraxes," Maliya pointed out again. "We don't know the type of people we're going to come across."

"Right, plus traveling by land will most likely take longer," Daemon agreed. "The only problem is this is going to cost us. We'll have to pay for a cabin on the ships plus extra to leave us alone and keep their mouths shut about anything they may see or hear. Prince Oberyn brought money for us like I asked, but even still it's going to cost us a lot. I don't know how much we'll have left by the time we reach Astapor."

"We already left Shadow close to the Northern army's camp so that they will find him, and both Daemon and I sold our horses since neither of us have any special attachment to them and we won't need them any longer," Dacey offered. "That should give us some extra spending money."

"And I already volunteered to help out around the ship during the journey to help pay for our passage across the sea," Daemon volunteered, a certain light in his blue eyes. "I don't have much experience with it, but I'm sort of looking forward to all of this. Ships, the open sea, a new adventure… it's all sort of exciting, isn't it?"

Dacey rolled her eyes but Maliya couldn't help quirk a small smile. "Part of me is excited about the prospect of finding part of a family that I never got the chance to know, another part is scared of leaving and the last part is worried that we're not even going to make it there," Maliya confessed, picking at a loose thread of the worn down dress she was wearing.

"We'll make it there," Daemon told her confidently, sending her one of his trademark brilliant smiles. "I promise."

"Thanks," Maliya murmured, feeling slightly choked up as she looked between the two of them. "I know how much both of you are giving up by coming with me and I want you to know how much I appreciate it." She glanced over at Daemon again. "When do we leave?"

"Before the sun rises."

"Alright," Maliya nodded, pushing her sentimental feelings to the side and focusing on the task at hand. "Let's go over the plan one more time." She missed the look of exasperation that passed between Dacey and Daemon. "Westeros and the rest of the world believe that Queen Maliya Stark is dead, so I'm going to have to pick yet another new name. So until we reach my aunt, until we can determine if she'll help us or if she has the Targaryen madness or not, my name is Lusia. My father was Dornish but I never knew him. My mother is from the Riverlands where she worked in a small bread shop. She passed away a couple moons ago and I'm traveling to find my older brother who left several years ago." She pointed to Daemon. "You are my childhood friend who agreed to accompany me and Dacey, we met you along the way and you're looking to leave Westeros because of the war. Keeping it simple will raise the least amount of suspicion, but it's best not to tell anyone anything."

"Your Grace – "

Maliya raised a hand and cut Dacey off. "No more 'Your Grace,' Dacey, I'm not your queen anymore."

Dacey gave her a look. "Robb Stark is my King and you are his wife, which makes you my Queen. I understand that we can't acknowledge you as such in front of others, but it doesn't change the fact that we are traveling to a foreign land with different languages, cultures and customs. We're still going to keep you safe and protect you with our lives."

"Again, I appreciate it," Maliya responded with a smile. "We just need to be careful around others. Which reminds me, I'm going to need a weapon since I left my sword at the inn. Daemon, would you have an extra dagger I could borrow? If memory serves you carry half a dozen hidden on your person at all times."

"I'm flattered that you remember," Daemon grinned, winking at her before proceding to pull daggers and knives from seemingly every crevice of his body. He pulled two smaller knives from his boots and two daggers from his sword belt before his eyes lit up. "Oh, I have something that would work for you." He stood, hurrying over to his bag before rummaging through it. "It's a bit cumbersome with the sword belt so I haven't been wearing it, but it will be easier for you."

Maliya reached out to take the leather belt from him, a thoughtful look on her face as she examined it. Realizing what she was looking at, she looked up at Daemon with wide eyes. "Is this – "

He nodded, already guessing her question, his grin widening. "One of Nym's designs. She's a fucking genius with concealed weaponry." Standing, Maliya moved her cloak to the side and pulled the leather belt around her waist to see how it fit. "It buckles around the side so that it isn't obvious to others," he instructed as she tightened the straps.

It was perfect, of course, Nymeria's designs always were. It didn't exactly fit with her ragged dress, but the belt was plain enough to not be too noticeable. Her fingers traced the leather, both hands reaching around to where two small daggers were sheathed at the small of her back. As long as she had her cloak on or was wearing a loose fitting dress, the daggers were hidden and nobody would know that she was armed. "This is exactly what I need. Would it be alright if I borrowed this?"

"You can have it," he shrugged easily. "It's no use to anybody just sitting in my bag."

"Thanks Daemon," she grinned, pulling out the daggers and twirling them between her fingers, practicing sheathing and unsheathing them. "What do you think?" Maliya asked softly, bending down to hold one out to Meraxes. The white dragon leisurely stretched her neck out, sniffing the metal for a second. "Not that interesting to you, is it," Maliya murmured with an affectionate smile as she snorted lightly and began wandering around their small camp.

"So, _Lusia_ ," Dacey said, pausing, her eyes trailing over Maliya's hair with a slight grimace. "Before we leave, would you mind if I fixed your hair?" She asked, pulling out her dagger and held it up. "It looks like you hacked at it with a sword."

Maliya's hand jumped to her hair, fingering the messy, uneven edges self consciously. "I did hack at it with a sword," she mumbled, giving her a speculative look. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

Dacey's eyebrow slowly rose. "Honestly, could I make it look any worse?"

Maliya frowned for a second, thinking, before shrugging and giving in. "I suppose not." Dacey gave her a triumphant smile before moving to sit behind her and getting to work. It didn't take too long to even out the strands of her hair and Maliya was pleased with the reflection that she saw in the blade of Dacey's dagger.

There was very little conversation as the night wore on. Most of the time was spent being entertained by every small thing that Meraxes did. It was a miracle that dragons even existed, let alone that she had a perfect one right in front of her. So many questions ran through her mind, questions that she hoped she would be able to ask her aunt.

 _How fast does a dragon grow? When will she be able to fly or breathe fire? How much does a dragon eat as it gets bigger? When will I be able ride her?_

That was what she has been looking forward to the most. Flying. She couldn't help but remember her dream or vision with the blonde haired woman and the other dragons, that feeling of complete exhilaration and a sense of belonging. Even the thought of it was addicting.

When they woke up early the next morning, they risked a small fire in order to cook the rest of the chicken. Maliya helped an extremely nervous Dacey give most of her portion to Meraxes, feeding her more than her usual amount until the dragon was lazily blinking and yawning. She didn't put up much of a protest when Maliya slowly put her in the small cage, just promptly fell asleep.

Daemon carefully slung the cage over his shoulder and onto his back and Maliya helped drape a small blanket over it so Meraxes wasn't visible. "Are you ready?" Dacey asked solemnly, looking between the two of them.

Maliya kicked dirt over the dwindling flames to put them out before bending down to pick up her own bag, which only contained a spare dress and underclothes and the poison from Tyene. She touched the daggers hidden at the small of her back beneath her cloak for comfort before she took a deep breath and nodded.

Maliya could see the beginnings of the suns rays peeking out over the horizon as they made their way through the still slumbering town of Saltpans. She pulled the hood of her cloak up as they drew near the harbor, where only a handful of ships were bobbing gently in the waters. None of the ships were very large or even very clean looking. "The smaller cog on the end is the one we're looking for," Daemon said over his shoulder, pointing as they walked down the dock. "Captain's name is Morsh. I paid enough to secure us a cabin on the ship, but it's not going to be very large and all three of us are going to have to share it."

"That's alright," Maliya responded, waving away his concerns. Her attention was soley focused on the ship and the open sea in front of them. Nervous flutters were gathering in her stomach at the thought of their voyage ahead. They climbed onboard the ship that was apparently called _The Adventure,_ and a dirty looking man with a large stomach and a scraggly black beard came up to greet them. He gruffly introduced himself as the captain, but Maliya was only half-listening as he and Daemon spoke and the owed money changed hands.

"This way," Captain Morsh grunted, his beady eyes greedily counting the money in the small bag Daemon had given him. Morsh led them down the steps below deck and Maliya crinkled her nose at the smell that wafted off him. "Crew arrives soon, we push off in an hour. You'll be staying in here," he told them once they reached the lower decks and threw open a door.

They entered the room and looked around, taking in the hammocks hanging from the ceiling and the buckets lined up against the walls. Maliya jumped and Dacey let out a loud curse as the largest rat she had ever seen gave a loud squeak and ran between their legs out of the room. "This room is dark and damp," she said loudly, sending a glare at the captain. "And what is that smell?"

"Rats get onboard when we make port," the captain shrugged unconcernedly. "We transported some chickens and shit a while back and never got the smell out. Pretty boy 'ere says you need passage to Myr, but if my ship is not to your liking - "

"It's fine," Maliya interjected, sending Dacey a quick look. "Thank you."

Morsh grunted, not caring in the slightest. "Be upstairs when the crew gets 'ere," he ordered Daemon as he brushed past him. He stopped in the doorway and turned back, his beady eyes finding both Maliya and Dacey, a creepy grin crossing his face. "The men aren't used to 'aving women on board." His smile grew, showing his crooked, yellowing teeth. "If I were you, I'd stay out of sight."

"So how long will it take to reach Myr?" Dacey asked Daemon once the captain left, crossing her arms and sending him a hard look. The disgust was evident in her voice and written over every inch of her face.

"It should only take a fortnight or two. I know it's not ideal, but it was the only thing I could find on such short notice," Daemon explained, the hint of an apology in his voice as he walked further into the room and gently set Meraxes' crate on the floor. "We're lucky we found anything at all."

"It's fine, Daemon," Maliya assured him, setting her bag next to one of the hammocks and gingerly sitting down to test it out. "It's disgusting and it smells terrible but it shouldn't be for that long. We just have to mind our own business, stay out of trouble and we will reach Myr soon." Maliya tried her best to remain positive and upbeat even though she disliked this as much as Dacey did. There was no light, it was dank and the thought of being stuck down there for days at a time was enough to make her queasy. This whole journey had been her idea, though, she wasn't allowed to whine or complain. "Everything is going to be alright," she murmured, rising from the hammock and moving toward Meraxes. She crouched down, pulling the blanket off it and peering down at her dragon, who blinked up at her sleepily. "It has to be."

* * *

Maliya's knuckles gripped the railing tightly as she leaned over the side and was violently sick, heaving until there was nothing left. Groaning slightly, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, brushing her hair back with the other and closing her eyes. "I have two feet on dry land. Why does it feel like I'm still on a ship in the middle of the ocean?" she moaned, the back of her hand coming up to cover her mouth, swallowing hard as the bile rose in her throat once more.

Dacey rubbed a comforting hand on her back, looking sympathetic. "I grew up on an island, I've seen this many times. When you've been out at sea for a while it takes a day or two to get used to the sensation of being back on land again."

"A day or two?" Maliya repeated, dismayed. She carefully opened her eyes again, steadying herself against the railing as the ground kept rocking before turning to Dacey. "Daemon said he found two possible ships for us. What did he call them again?"

"There's two merchant trading ships, either a carrack or a swan ship. Come on, walking should help," Dacey said gently, picking up Meraxes cage and putting it over her shoulder. "Both are bigger than the ship we came here on, which is better for long voyages," she continued as they walked along the water front. "It might also be better for your stomach, you probably won't feel the rocking of the waves as much."

"And how long do you think it will take to get there?" Maliya asked casually, looking around. It was unfortunate that they couldn't stay in Myr longer than a day. It really was quite beautiful and interesting here. The view looking out at the Sea of Myrth from the docks was breathtaking with the sun glinting off the waters. Different temples and shrines lined the streets along with the shops, and people were talking and shouting loudly in a language that sounded a bit like Valyrian. The only thing Maliya would never be able to get used to was the amount of slaves she saw. They were all collared and branded and they were everywhere.

"A full moon, possibly two." Maliya bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from groaning again. She was so tired of getting sick at least once a day. Apparently, her stomach and ships didn't get along well. Dacey sent her a sideways glance. "I'm assuming you've never been on a ship before?"

An almost forgotten memory surfaced to the front of her mind, sobering her mood even further. "I have, actually, during the Usurper's war. The man who smuggled me out of King's Landing took me to Dorne by ship. I don't remember much – just the smell of the ocean and an overwhelming sense of fear."

"How old were you?" Dacey asked quietly.

"Three. I don't know if it's a blessing or a curse that I don't remember more." She paused, a familiar head of sandy brown hair catching her eye. "Look, there's Daemon," she said, waving to catch his attention and attempting a smile when he headed in their direction, a bag slung over his shoulder.

"Here, I got you this," he said once he reached them, handing her half a loaf of bread. "It should help settle your stomach. The Seven knows you haven't been able to keep anything down since we boarded _The Adventure_."

"Thanks," she murmured gratefully, taking a few bites and saying a quick prayer that she would be able to keep this down. She put the bread in her bag in case she grew hungry later.

"I also bought some dried meat as well as some spare clothes. I don't know about the two of you, but I'd like to burn the ones that I wore on that ship. Think Mera will be able to help us out with that soon?" He asked, patting the crate gently.

Maliya shot him an annoyed look. "You are not calling my fearsome dragon ' _Mera,_ ' Daemon. Call her that again and I'll shave your head in your sleep," she snapped, crossing her arms.

Dacey's eyebrows shot up in surprise at her tone, but Daemon gave her a scandalized look, both hands immediately raising in the air. "I'll do anything you want, just don't touch my hair," he pleaded teasingly, the corner of his lips twitching. Maliya rolled her eyes at him, but she couldn't stop the smile tugging at her lips, her annoyance evaporating just as quickly as it appeared.

"It's probably for the best that Meraxes can't breathe fire yet," Dacey told them, lowering her voice as a small group of people walked by. "She's been cagey and irritated lately and if she could breathe fire, she'd probably set the ship aflame."

"Can you blame her?" Maliya asked, understanding a lot of Meraxes' irritation. "She was just stuck in the same small room with nothing but cooked fish for every meal. It must be incredibly hard for a dragon to be trapped without a view of the sky, even if she can't fly yet." A small noise came from the direction of the crate along with the sound of claws scrabbling against wood. "She's getting restless. We need to let her out before she draws too much attention to us."

"We will shortly. This next ship is infinitely better," Dameon promised, patting her shoulder reassuringly. He gestured for them to follow him as he explained what he'd found. "I've chosen to go with the swan ship for a few reasons. The captain and his crew were open and friendly. Most of them are from the Summer Isles, so they've been traveling from city to city trading goods. The ship itself seemed clean and it's definitely the type of ship made for long voyages. They are also protected by a handful of archers in case they are attacked."

"It sounds almost too good to be true," Dacey commented lightly.

"Ignore her, Daemon," Maliya said, sending her a quick warning glance. Both of them were very different people from very different places and they ended up bickering often. "It sounds great."

"It's quite perfect actually," Daemon corrected, smirking slightly at Dacey. "The crew could use an extra man, so I volunteered to help out again. This ship is just very different than the other, but the basics should be pretty much the same. _The Moonrunner_ is a three-masted ship, though, so hopefully the crew will be more willing to teach me."

"I envy your ability to so easily and fluidly move from one situation to the next, Daemon," Maliya sighed, looping her arm with his. "I must say it's one of your best qualities."

"One of many," he boasted with a grin, blue eyes twinkling. "Come on, this is us."

Maliya shaded her eyes with one hand as she tilted her head back to take in the ship. It was at least double the size of _The Adventure_ , with half a dozen large, white sails and a figurehead of some type of large bird that she didn't recognize. "Ah, Daemon!" They all looked up to see a large, ebony skinned man standing near the rail, a grin on his face as he waved. "Come on up!" Daemon waved back before leading the way up the ramp and on to the ship. The man's smile was bright against his skin as he clasped Daemon's forearm in greeting. "Welcome aboard _The Moonrunner_ ," he said, turning to her and Dacey. "My name is Captain Tabo Zhoxa and we are very pleased to have you join us on our journey."

"We're very grateful for your generosity," Dacey smiled. "Not all captains would have been so accommodating. My name is Dacey and this is Lusia."

"It's nice to meet you," Maliya greeted, attempting to smile as well. A bone deep fatigue had settled over her and suddenly all she wanted to do was crawl into a bed and sleep. She looked around at all the ropes and complicated rigging, at the men hustling about, shouting and getting the ship ready for departure as she looked for something to say. "Your ship is beautiful."

"She is, isn't she?" Captain Tabo said proudly, patting the wooden rail. "I've had her almost ten years now. Come on, I'll give you a tour."

Both Dacey and Maliya smiled and nodded every time the captain turned around and looked at them with a wide smile on his face, looking to see if they were impressed with all the different parts of the ship. He spoke loudly, gesturing with his hands as he talked, pausing every so often to introduce them to some of his crew. Maliya figured that Dacey knew a fair bit more about ships than her, but Daemon was hanging onto every word that the captain said with the most serious expression she had ever seen on his face.

"Are you alright, Yo - Lusia?" Dacey asked her, concern on her face as Maliya started to lag behind. "You look a bit pale."

"Yes, of course," Maliya answered, quickly trying to reassure her. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she smiled up at the taller woman. "I'm just feeling a little tired, that's all. No, Dacey, really I'm – "

Too late. "Captain Tabo?" Dacey spoke up, moving over to him as she interrupted him and Daemon. "I'm sorry, would you be able to show us to where we will be staying? We're quite tired from our journey and we'd like to be able to put our things down."

"Yes, yes, my apologies! Listen to me, blathering on," he chuckled, gesturing them towards the stairs leading below deck. "Daemon told me about the conditions on the last ship you were on. Just despicable! I can't promise that you won't see an occasional rat or two, but if my ship isn't in better condition than the last one you were on, I give you persmission to toss me overboard."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Dacey chuckled, looking around with her eyebrows raised. "We'd be hard pressed to find a better ship than this one."

Maliya had to hide an amused and tired smile as pride shone through the captain's eyes at the compliment. With her tall, willowy figure, rich, chestnut brown hair and hazel green eyes, Dacey Mormont was a striking woman and she knew how to use that to her advantage when necessary. Maliya may not have known Dacey too well before this journey, but she learned that it was hard not to like her. She was smart, a good fighter and she was loyal to Robb and by extension, Maliya.

She really couldn't have found two better people to accompany her on this journey.

"Daemon mentioned that this is a merchant ship. What do you trade?" Maliya asked, trying to make conversation as they reached the lower deck.

"Lots of things," Captain Tabo answered, spreading his arms wide. "The Summer Islands are rich in emeralds, rubies, sapphires and pearls. We have nutmeg, cinnamon, pepper, many different types of wood and exotic fruits and wines. We are well known for our goldenheart wood, which make the best bows in the world and only grows on our islands of Jhala and Omboru."

"Where else do you trade?" Daemon asked curiously.

"We trade in many different places. Myr, Kings Landing, Oldtown, Braavos and Qarth, mostly." Maliya's ears perked up at the mention of Qarth, though she tried her best not to let it reflect on her face. That was where her uncle had received reports of her aunt's latest whereabouts, before she had her dream or vision about Astapor. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he had heard any recent rumors of three dragons, but she stopped herself at the last minute, figuring that would draw too much attention as a first impression. She didn't want anyone feeling suspicious or asking questions.

They passed several cargo spaces used to hold their trading goods, most of which were stored in large crates and boxes. The captain stopped at the end of the corridor. "This is where you'll be staying," he told them, gesturing into a room that was small, but cleaner than the last one they stayed in. He allowed them to file in ahead of them before continuing. "We eat three meals a day. Our day starts early, we break our fast as the sun rises, then another meal midday and another as the sun sets. We're making a stop at Lys to retock our supplies and to trade some of our goods then we make our way to Qarth. Is there anything else that you need?" He asked, looking between the three of them.

"I think we have everything that we need, thank you," Daemon said graciously, reaching out to shake the captain's hand again. "I'll be up shortly to help you all set off."

Another smile split Captain Tabo's face as he nodded, closing the cabin door behind him and leaving them alone. "Here, put her down," Maliya murmured, helping Dacey take the crate off her shoulder and carefully place her on the floor. She took the blanket off, and unlatched the crate door. "There you go."

Meraxes eagerly left the confines of the crate, stretching out her neck and flapping her wings. All of them were watching her curiously inspect her new surroundings with smiles on their faces. "She really doesn't like that crate," Dacey commented lightly. "If dragons could smile, she would be smiling right now."

"She's actually been behaving far better than I could have hoped for," Maliya told them, wearily going over to one of the hanging hammocks, putting down her bag and sitting down with a relieved sigh. Her eyes followed Meraxes as she walked around, sniffing and checking out the room. "As long as we keep her well fed, she's been pretty quiet. I'm not sure how these people would react if they learned she existed."

"I'll go up to help the crew and ask around to see if they have any meat or fish," Daemon volunteered.

"Thank you," Maliya said gratefully as Daemon put his bag down on another hammock. "That would be a big help. It's probably just about time for Meraxes to eat again." He nodded and left.

The small white dragon picked her head up at the sound of her voice, her golden eyes landing on her. She let out a small cry before making her way toward Maliya, climbing up her leg before settling in her lap and curling herself up comfortably. Maliya smiled down at her, running a careful finger down her spine, taking care of the small spikes.

"Looks like she knows her name," Dacey said gently. She came over to them, moving steadily so as not to startle Meraxes. The dragon picked her head up as Dacey crouched in front of them. Glancing quickly up at Maliya, Dacey slowly reached her hand out towards Meraxes, freezing instantly as Meraxes stood up in a flash, her golden eyes narrowed. Maliya watched the pair of them, holding her breath and ready to intervene at a moment's notice. Meraxes didn't let out an angry hiss like she normally would. She held perfectly still for a long moment as if preparing herself to strike, but instead she decisively moved her head forward, allowing Dacey to touch her.

Dacey let out a noise that sounded like a mixture between a gasp and a chuckle, grinning excitedly as she looked up at Maliya. "Did you see that?" She asked breathlessly as Meraxes curled back up once more, completely unconcerned with what was happening. "Seven hells, I just touched a dragon! I mean sure, the dragon is about the size of a kitten, but how many people can say they've done that?"

"Not many," Maliya answered, tilting her head to the side with a tired smile. "It'll be a great story to tell your grandchildren."

Dacey snorted and rolled her eyes. "First I'd have to find myself a man in order for that to happen," she joked, glancing over at Maliya when she didn't laugh or react in any way. "Are you sure you're alright?" Dacey asked, a concerned frown tugging at her lips as her green eyes searched Maliya's face. "You look pale."

"I'm fine," Maliya said again, putting a reassuring hand on Dacey's shoulder. "I'm just tired, that's all, I think I need some sleep."

"Alright," Dacey nodded slowly, still looking at her as if she might keel over at any moment. "Well, you get some sleep and I'll take watch and make sure no one comes in here."

"Thanks Dacey," Maliya murmured, picking up Meraxes and shifting in the hammock until she was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling with her dragon snuggled against her chest, radiating a comforting warmth. Her eyelids immediately felt heavy, the exhaustion overtaking her as her body relaxed. "I only need a couple minutes," she mumbled incoherently as the world faded and she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Maliya headed up the stairs, her right hand moving along the wall for balance, silently thanking Dacey for volunteering to watch over Meraxes while the dragon slept. She paused for a moment when she reached the top, tilting her head back and closing her eyes, savoring the feeling of the sun shining on her face and the wind blowing strands of hair across her face. "Hello, Lusia. We haven't seen you up here in a couple days. How are you feeling?"

Maliya opened her eyes and saw Jantara, the captain's daughter, standing in front of her. "Morning, Jantara." She gave the older girl a genuine smile. Jantara was taller than her, with an athletic build and strong, muscled arms, which was due to years of using a goldenheart bow. She was one of five of the red archers on the ship and she cut an intimidating figure. Her skin was as dark as her father's and her black hair was long, layered with small braids and brightly colored feathers. "I'm feeling better, I think. Enough to come up and get some fresh air, anyway. Where are we?" She asked, looking out at sea as they walked around the edge of the ship and spotting several islands in the distance.

"Right now we're sailing through the Stepstones," Jantara told her, greeting some of the working men as they passed. "It's not the safest of paths, but there's no other way."

"Is that why you're wearing your bow?" Maliya asked, nodding toward the bow and arrow strung across her back.

"Yes. The Stepstones are home to numerous pirate dens. Don't worry," Jantara added, catching the worried look on Maliya's face and smiling confidently. "The pirates are aware that the swan ships come from the Summer Isles and that they're well guarded. They know that we're not an easy target and they know better than to attack our ships. In my opinion it's the storms we have to be wary of."

"Lusia!" Both women turned to see Daemon approaching them. Working on this ship definitely seemed to suit him. His skin was tanned and his hair lighter from working in the sun. He had ripped the sleeves off his shirt, exposing his muscled arms, which Maliya could see Jantara eyeing appreciatively as he stopped in front of them, his ever present smile on his face. "I brought you some dried, slightly stale biscuits. It was either that or tasteless, runny oatmeal."

"Thanks." Maliya took the bisuits from him, smiling up at him and meeting his blue eyes. Blue eyes that twinkled and shone in the sunlight, but blue eyes that were a lighter shade than the ones that she had come to know and love. A pang of longing swept through her and she dropped her gaze, taking a bite of the biscuit to hide the sadness in her expression.

"Are there no biscuits for me?" Jantara asked Daemon with a teasing smile on her face.

"Jantara, my sweet, all you had to do was ask. You know that I'm helpless to resist you," he replied smoothly, eyes alight as he looked at her. Maliya looked between the pair of them, neither or which seemed to realize she was still standing there. Her eyebrows slowly raised as she practically felt the attraction between them.

"Daemon!" One of the other members of the crew called, waving him over to help with the sails. Daemon winked at Jantara and smiled at Maliya before jogging off.

"What is the relationship between you and Daemon?" Jantara asked delicately, her eyes still on his retreating back. When Maliya looked up at her quizzically, she elaborated. "He takes care of you, makes sure you're eating. Are the two of you together? Do you make love?"

Maliya nearly choked on her biscuit. "No," she croaked, her eyes watering slightly. "No, we don't _make love_." She couldn't help her amused smile at the thought and the words itself. "Daemon is like a brother to me, we grew up in the same village."

"I'm going to make love to him," Jantara announced decisively, nodding her head once. "Tonight."

Maliya didn't think her eyebrows could rise any higher, but they did. She had no idea how to respond to that bold statement. "I'm sure he would enjoy that," she said awkwardly, her voice rising at the end and making it sound more like a question.

"Yes, he would, I'm really very good." Jantara glanced at Maliya's uncomfortable expression and her smile only widened. "It is amusing to me that you Westerosi are so ashamed by something so natural. On the Summer Isles, it is second nature to breathing. We make love to celebrate life and we make love to celebrate the dead."

"Can you tell me more about your home?" Maliya asked curiously as they started walking around the deck again. "It sounds like an interesting place." They hit an unusually large wave and Maliya's stomach lifted and dropped along with the ship. She swallowed harshly against the nausea, hurriedly lifting a biscuit and taking a bite in the hopes that it would settle her stomach.

"It is a beautiful place," Jantara amended, her eyes holding a faraway look in them as she spoke. "About fifty islands make up the Summer Isles, but three of them are the largest and the most important. Jhala is the largest island, and Walano has the most people. It's where Tall Trees Town is located, the religious heart of all of the Summer Isles. Then there's Koj, where all of our Swan Ships are built."

"Fifty islands," Maliya murmured in amazement, tucking hair behind her ear to stop it from blowing in her face. "How do you rule fifty islands? Do you have a king?"

"The islands are split between several princes and princesses."

Maliya thought of the war ravaged, torn apart state of Westeros with four kings fighting for control of one throne and frowned. "That must be difficult to have so many different rulers."

"Not at all," Jantara shrugged easily. "The Summer Isles are a peaceful place, mostly untouched by the wars you Westerosi are so fond of. If there is a war, a day and time is chosen by a priest. The two disagreeing parties meet at the battlefield armed with spears and slings. Such fights rarely last more than a day. The survivors on the side that loses are exiled and those who are victorious gain what they leave behind."

Maliya stared up at her in disbelief. "That's it? That's not a war, Jantara, it sounds more like a tournament melee!" She thought back to the burned down houses and destroyed crops that she saw while passing through the Riverlands. "That's - that's incredible! No innocent people would have to get hurt or die…" she trailed off, her eyes wide as her mind raced. "More places should follow your example."

"The world would be much safer if they did," Jantara agreed quietly.

* * *

"Seven hells, Jantara was not joking when she said we should be wary of these storms," Maliya moaned, huddled against the wall with a bucket clutched tightly in her arms. She braced herself against the nausea as the ship rolled once more, making the hammocks swing wildly. Dacey threw out a hand against the wall to balance herself and Meraxes flapped her wings in agitation, letting out a displeased screech.

"At least the sound of the thunder and the waves crashing against the ship will cover the sounds that Meraxes is making," Dacey said in a loud voice, trying to look on the bright side.

"Do you think Daemon is alright?" Maliya gasped, her entire body tensing as the ship headed straight up and then down another wave. "What if he gets swept overboard?"

"Daemon will be fine," Dacey assured her with a slight roll of her eyes. "Haven't you heard him talking about all the different kinds of sails, and masts and rigging? He's probably beside himself with excitement up there."

"What if our ship gets blown off course?" Maliya asked fretfully. Once she started thinking of these scary situations, she found that she couldn't stop and her anxiety only grew. "What if we get shipwrecked at sea or stranded on an island? Then all this – faking my death, telling Robb I was still alive, trying to find my aunt – all of it would be for nothing, Dacey, and I don't think I could live with that! If we're even still alive at the end of this, which – " she froze, grimacing as another large wave tossed the ship around. "- may not be likely at this point."

"We are not going to die," Dacey told her firmly, pointing a finger in her direction with her eyebrows raised. "It's not going to happen, I won't allow it."

Maliya let out an exasperated, unamused laugh. "You can't control everything! You can't possibly – " A wave crashed into the ship, bigger than the ones before. It sent the ship lurching sideways and then there was the terrible sound of wood breaking apart as they hit something. Maliya slid across the floor, Meraxes went screeching past, claws scrabbling for purchase and Dacey, who had been standing, stumbled and slammed into the opposite wall.

When the ship righted itself again, Maliya hunched over the bucket still clutched in her arms, emptying the contents of her stomach. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand when she was finished and looked around, wincing at the digusting taste. Meraxes was ruffling her wings in displeasure, her eyes narrowed but looking relatively unharmed. Dacey, on the other hand, was still hunched against the wall with her head bent down and her hair covering her face.

"Meraxes," she murmured, holding a hand out to the white dragon and feeling slightly reassured when she stepped into her hand, climbing up her arm and moving to perch on her shoulder. "Dacey?" Maliya called, putting her bucket to the side and carefully moving into kneeling position. "Dacey, are you alright?"

Dacey straightened slightly, shaking the hair back from her face. Pain was etched on every inch of her face and her teeth were clenched as she panted heavily. "Dislocated my shoulder," she grunted, her left arm hanging unnaturally in front of her body, her right hand clutching it protectively. "I'm gunna – I'm going to need to you to… fix it."

"Fix it?" Maliya repeated, bewildered, shaking her head. "I don't know how to do that. Once the storm passes, I'm sure someone from the crew will know how to help – "

"It feels like there are a thousand swords in my shoulder," Dacey told her loudly, looking over at her with agony in her green eyes as she moved to the center of the room. "And the longer we wait, the worse it gets. It's happened to me before, I know what needs to be done."

Maliya was still shaking her head, her eyes wide. "Dacey, please, I don't – "

"I need you, Maliya," Dacey pleaded, stifling a cry as she carefully laid down on her back. "I need you to do this. Please."

Maliya swallowed, her eyes bouncing from Dacey to the door of their cabin as if she were expecting someone to come in and help them. "Alright," she whispered finally, hesitantly nodding. She shuffled closer to Dacey's left side, taking a deep breath and trying not to be sick again at the sight of the shoulder bone popping out beneath the skin. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Take my hand and move it until it's pointed towards you," she instructed, and Maliya gently moved her arm until it was ninety degrees away from her body. "You're going to pull my arm while slowly moving it upwards above my head," she panted. "It will probably help to put your feet against my body for leverage."

Feeling incredibly nervous, Maliya did as she was told, grasping Dacey's hand between both of her own. "Are you sure about this?" She asked, pausing. "I don't want to hurt you – "

"Just do it." Dacey closed her closed her eyes in preparation of the pain, a muscle in her jaw twitching as she took several deep breaths in through her nose. "On the count of three. 1…2…" Maliya pulled as hard as she could, moving her arm upwards. She heard the popping noise even over the sound of Dacey's screams, both of which sent chills down Maliya's spine.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Maliya chanted, letting go of Dacey's hand and shifting to kneel over her, her hands hovering uselessly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm… fine," Dacey gasped, involuntary tears leaking out of her eyes and trailing into her hair. She took a few deep breaths, blinking the tears away before slowly sitting up, her arm still cradled to her chest. "I'm not in as much pain anymore. It'll be a few weeks before it's back to normal, but at least I can move it now." Maliya watched as Dacey took off her cloak with her right hand and tossed it to her. "Do me a favor and make a sling out of this, will you?"

"How often does this happen to you?" Maliya asked, still feeling shaken by the whole thing. She reached behind her and pulled out one of her daggers, cutting part of the cloak before ripping it the rest of the way.

"This will be the third time," Dacey muttered, wincing as Maliya placed her arm in the sling and tied it behind her neck. "I was ten when it happened the first time. I tripped, put my hand down to catch myself and the weight of my body popped it right out. Thanks," she smiled when Maliya finished and sat back, slipping the dagger back in its sheath. Dacey suddenly tilted her head to the side. "Does the ship seem calmer to you?"

"Maybe," Maliya murmured uncertainly, lifting a shoulder. "What do you think happened? Did we hit something?"

"Possibly," Dacey mused quietly, moving to her feet. She headed towards the door, speaking quickly over her shoulder. "Stay here with Meraxes. I'm going above deck to check on Daemon and to see if the ship was damaged by the storm. I'll be back shortly."

* * *

 **Dacey's POV**

Dacey left the worried looking queen and her small dragon and jogged up the steps leading to the top deck. She was pelted with freezing rain as soon as the dark sky came into view and hastily swiped a hand over her eyes to clear her vision. She made to walk forward, to start to look for Daemon, but one of the crew members ran past, almost knocking her back down the stairs.

Cursing under her breath, Dacey steadied herself and looked around, taking in as much as she could as quickly as she could. It was absolute chaos. Crew members were running back and forth, trying to follow all the orders that Captain Tabo was shouting as he strode up and down the deck. "Daemon!" She yelled, jogging to catch up to him as he ran past her, snagging his elbow to stop him. "What's going on? What happened?"

Daemon was breathing heavily, his hair plastered to his forehead by the rain. "C'mere," he said lowly, pulling her to the side and out of the way of the other men. "Getting through the Stepstones is hard enough, but we had poor visibility with the storm. It pushed us off course and the ship hit some rocks, Dacey," he said urgently, gripping her good arm tightly. Her eyes widened at the implications and her mouth dropped open in shock and fear. "We're taking on water. Most of the crew is down there trying to fix it, but it doesn't look good." He glanced at her arm in a sling. "Are you alright? Lusia?"

"We're both fine. What are we supposed to do?" Dacey hissed frantically, looking around to make sure no one was listening. "We made a promise, Daemon, we cannot let her die – "

"And we won't," Daemon interrupted heatedly, eyes narrowed. "If they can't fix the ship or steer us to an island, then they have small rowboats that we could take. I'm sure they have an evacuation plan in case of a situation like this. We just need – "

"Ship!" Both Daemon and Dacey's heads snapped up. One of the crew members was leaning over the side of the crow's nest, shouting himself hoarse as he pointed at something behind them. "Captain! There's a ship coming up behind us!"

Dacey, Daemon and most of the crew whipped around, running towards the stern to see for themselves. It was difficult to see through the downpour, but when Dacey squinted her eyes, she could just make out another ship approaching in their direction. Something inside Dacey's chest eased slightly, some of the panic and anxiety lifting. There was another ship coming, which meant they wouldn't be sinking to the bottom of the sea and the queen would be safe.

"Dorrol, flip that flag around," Captain Tabo hollered, pointing up at the flag adorned with a flying tropical bird whipping around above them. "Bhanas, Janalal, Mollar, get below deck and see how much water we've taken on. Move the cargo if need be. Jantara!" The captain's daughter ran up to him as the other men rushed off to follow his orders. "Be ready, my daughter. Let's not forget where we are." Jantara nodded once with a determined expression and ran off, shouting her own set of orders.

Dacey watched the man called Dorrol pulling down the flag, unhooking it and flipping it so it was upside down before raising it high again. Daemon caught the slightly confused expression on her face and explained. "It's the universal sign for distress. It'll let the approaching ship know that we're in a spot of trouble." Something caught Daemon's attention of her shoulder and she turned to see what he was looking at. "That's Nakoros," he said in her ear. "He's the ship's carpenter, his job is to make sure the ship stays afloat."

They both fell silent as they watched the tall, skinny man speak with the captain. They couldn't hear him over the sound of the rain pouring down on them, but they got the gist of what he was saying from the way he was shaking his hands and gesticulating wildly. "I'm guessing he couldn't fix the damage," Dacey announced worriedly, pushing her sopping hair back from her face.

Daemon put a hand on her back and started leading her back towards the stairs. "You should head below deck and tell her what's happened. She'll need to prepare to – "

Shouts of alarm and fear were suddenly raised across the deck and Dacey's heart plummeted to her stomach, immediately and instinctively knowing that something was wrong. Everything seemed to move quickly after that, and for a moment her brain had trouble making sense of what was happening. When she looked to see what everyone was pointing at, she saw that the ship that had been following them was much closer than they realized, close enough to see people moving across the deck. Daemon swore loudly next to her and even though she had never seen one before, she knew what it was.

The other ship was raising their own flag, except that one was vastly different. This flag was pitch black, with a white skeleton in the center, it's toothy grin taunting them. In one hand, the skeleton was crushing a red heart that was dripping blood and in the other it was holding an hourglass.

"Pirates," Dacey breathed, a trickle of fear running through her.

"Not just any fucking pirates," Daemon swore, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "That flag was mentioned on both ships and in Myr. The skeleton represents death, obviously, but they say the heart dripping blood promises that death to be slow and painful and the hourglass is a warning to their prey that time is running out. This flag belongs to a pirate captain they call Red."

"Archers!" Jantara shouted as she ran forward, her bow in her hands and her quiver on her back. "To your positions!"

An arrow from the enemy ship came whizzing past them, missing Dacey by inches and lodging in the back of a crewmember running past, who fell with a strangled yell of pain. Dacey and Daemon pulled their swords free as two more of _The Moonrunner_ 's archers fell before they could even string their bows. She watched in horror as the pirate ship began to pull up alongside them, three of their crew shooting what looked like crossbows into the air, the grappling hooks catching onto the opposite railings. Other pirates were swinging from ropes on their ships and landing onto the deck of _The Moonrunner_. "Get below deck, now!" Daemon bellowed, putting a hand on her back and shoving her forward. "I'll join you as soon as I can!"

Adrenaline pumping through her body, Dacey crouched low to avoid any more arrows flying through the hair and ran down the stairs two at a time. Despite the impending danger of both the sinking ship and the pirates, her mind and body seemed to settle. She pushed everything else from her mind as she focused on the one reason she was on this journey in the first place – to protect the queen.

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

Maliya leapt to her feet in surprise as the door to the cabin suddenly burst open. She rushed in, closing the door immediately behind her and it was then that Maliya's eyes fell on the sword in her hand. "What is it?" She asked quickly, her heart jumping into her throat. "What's happened?"

Dacey was drenched from head to toe, dripping water everywhere, her face pale but the expression on her face determined. "Pirates," she spat, causing Maliya's eyes to widen. "We're being attacked. We can't try and outrun them because the ship hit rocks and is currently sinking and there's no time to go for the rowboats because they're already boarding in force."

"Where's Daemon?" Maliya demanded, trying shove away her fear and dread and focus on one thing at a time.

"He's still above deck trying to help them hold them off." Dacey glanced over at Maliya, green eyes meeting brown. "Be ready, Your Grace. This isn't a war galley, it's a merchant ship. Besides Jantara and the rest of the archers, there aren't many skilled fighters on board."

"We can't – " Maliya broke off, glancing upwards as the sounds of screaming and shouting became audible through the rain. "We can't let them take Meraxes." At the sound of her name, the dragon perched on her shoulder shifted slightly. She was quiet now, and somehow seemed to sense that something was wrong. "They could take her, or kill her, and she's too small to defend herself – "

They heard loud, pounding steps approaching the door and Dacey threw herself at it, bracing her feet. A fist pounded against it from the other side. "It's me, it's Daemon!" They heard him yell. Dacey moved quickly, opening the door, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, yanking him inside and slamming it shut again.

Maliya's eyes trailed over the cut on his arm, the blood splattered on his shirt and dripping from his sword. "What's happening up there?" She asked, now unable to stop the trickle of fear from growing stronger.

Daemon shook his head, sending raindrops flying. "The ship's been taken." Everything froze for a moment and Maliya found she had a hard time breathing. It wasn't supposed to end like this. They weren't supposed to make it halfway only to get captured or killed by pirates. Had it been a mistake to leave Westeros?

Everything came rushing back again, and Maliya shook herself out of it, trying to focus. "What do we do?" She asked, her voice wavering slightly.

"How many of them are there?" Dacey asked.

Daemon bent over, arms on his knees as he panted heavily, still trying to get his breath back. "Too many for us to take on by ourselves," he told them, glancing up. "These men knew what they were doing. A dozen of them came over in the first boarding wave and overwhelmed us nearly immediately. More of them are boarding now. They're going to do a sweep of the ship, take stock of their prize."

"So we take out as many as we can," Maliya proposed, looking between the two of them. A determination and a resignation filled her as they both nodded solemnly. Reaching up, she pulled Meraxes off her shoulder and went to the back of the cabin to set her on top of the crate. "I don't know how much of this you understand," Maliya murmured, crouching down in front of her. "Prepare to fight, Meraxes. _Vīlībagon_ ," she repeated in Valyrian, uncertain which language she would comprehend better; the language that she's been hearing them speak since she hatched or the language from Valyria, where dragons came from. Her little white dragon blinked her golden eyes at her, but otherwise gave no indication whether she understood or not.

"Here they come," Daemon warned with a heavy voice.

Taking a deep breath, Maliya turned to face the door, reaching behind her with hands and pulling out her daggers. Being unaccustomed to the weight and size of them, she wished more than anything that she had her sword with her.

She stood at the very back of the room in front of the crate, while Dacey and Daemon took up positions on either side of the closed door, standing as silently as possible with their swords raised. They waited with baited breath until the door opened and two men came stepped inside. Before they could focus and take stock of what they were looking at, Dacey and Daemon pounced. Daemon easily knocked one of the startled pirate's sword to the side and thrust his own through his chest while Dacey stepped out from behind the door, grabbing the other pirate's greasy hair with one hand and slicing her sword through his throat with ease.

Without saying a word to each other, Dacey closed the door again as Daemon moved the bodies to the side before taking up their positions again. They were able to execute that move once more before the pirates realized what was happening. Four men came barging in the room next, and from then on, there was no time to think. Maliya dodged, weaved, slashed and stabbed with her two daggers and was able to take down the first man, but she immediately knew that she wouldn't be able to keep this up. Any man with a sword had an immense advantage over her because his reach is longer than hers and because she had to work twice as hard to avoid the blade and inflict damage of her own.

A few more men came flooding into the already small room. Maliya, both daggers raised in front of her, slowly began to backpedal. Her eyes quickly flickered to where both Daemon and Dacey were fighting their own men, killing their opponents and falling back to stand before Maliya on either side. Five or six men fanned out around them, surrounding them, varying expressions of sneers and smirks on their faces.

They slowly began to advance and Maliya's heart seized with fear. Would whatever fate the pirates had in store for them be worse than the death they would experience if they kept fighting? If they attempted to fight, would Maliya lose either Dacey or Daemon in the struggle? She knew both of them were willing to die for her, but was she ready to have that on her conscience? It wasn't as if their deaths would ensure her escape or survival.

As if sensing her inner turmoil, Meraxes let out a high, piercing cry, pushing off the crate and wobbling slightly as she pumped her wings twice to leap her way up onto Maliya's shoulder. The pirates immediately froze with shock at the sight of the dragon, but Meraxes still dug her wing claws into Maliya's shoulder, snaking her head forward with narrowed golden eyes as she let out a loud, warning shriek.

The dragon was still young, so Maliya wouldn't necessarily have said the sound she emitted was intimidating, yet it still sent chills down her back and rendered the entire cabin silent. It was a sound that reminded everyone present that even though dragons haven't been seen for centuries, they were almost magical beings and grew to be incredibly powerful.

One of the pirates who was greedily staring at Meraxes tore his gaze away, striding to the door and calling for someone down the corridor. "Oi, Ash! You're gunna wanna come and see this!"

They heard footsteps approaching the cabin and Maliya automatically glared at whoever was about to come through the doorway. When she saw him though, her eyes widened infinitesimally, only her years of training under her father reminding her to hide what she was thinking.

The young man who entered was tall and lean. He had straight, shaggy silver gold hair that brushed his shoulders and fell into his eyes, which Maliya belatedly realized were a vibrant lilac color. A scar ran down his right eye, starting by his eyebrow and ending just below his eye. There was a piercing in one of his ears that looked like a tooth and there was part of a black claw visible on one shoulder beneath his shirt with a tail coiled down to his elbow on his other arm. She knew that the claw and tail belonged to a tattoo of a black dragon just as she knew that she had seen this man before.

She had dreamt of him just as she had dreamt of the harpy above Astapor's gate.

The man's purple gaze briefly flickered between the three of them before landing on the dragon perched on Maliya's shoulder. His eyes lit up, an eyebrow raising in disbelief and his mouth parted slightly. "A bloody dragon," he breathed in awe and wonder. He stared at Meraxes for a long moment, taking in every inch of her with an intensity that made Maliya bristle.

"Who are you?" She demanded in the silence, her own eyes narrowing. "What do you want?"

"Ah, you're from Westeros, are you?" The man mused upon hearing her speak, finally tearing his gaze from the dragon and looking at her. "I have a dozen questions about how it is that you have a dragon, but they're not for me to ask. My name is Asher. As for what I want…" he spread his hands to the side, shrugging a shoulder up and down as a smirk crossed his face. "We're pirates, love. We're here to take everything you have."

The pirates around him laughed and Asher's smirk only grew. "How much do you think we'll get for a real, live dragon?" One of them asked, actually licking his lips with greedy anticipation.

"A fortune!" Another one crooned enthusiastically.

Asher held up a hand and the others immediately fell silent. "The captain will have to decide what to do with the dragon. Now," he said, looking around at them again, his purple eyes triumphant. "This ship has been taken and we have you surrounded and outnumbered. Lay down your weapons and I can assure you no one will get hurt. Raise your weapons against us and you will die."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Daemon lift his sword slightly and Dacey shift to the balls of her feet as if they were readying themselves to fight. Asher noticed this as well and his smirk grew, his fingers twitching to the sword strapped across his back. Maliya wasn't ready to die and she wasn't ready to see Dacey or Daemon die either. She didn't know how or when, but she knew they had a better chance or attempting to escape later than they did fighting their way off this ship. They would have to fight dozens of pirates first of all, and then after that where would they go?

It was harder to do than she thought, but she reluctantly released her grip on the daggers and let them clatter to the floor. Daemon followed her lead almost immediately but Dacey's head snapped around to stare at her in disbelief. Maliya said nothing, just gave her a long look, and eventually, with a resigned expression, Dacey followed suit and dropped her sword as well.

"Good choice," Asher nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. "Gather their weapons and their things. Bind their hands and someone secure that dragon."

Two men started forward towards Maliya and Meraxes, eyes narrowed and hands outstretched, but before she could utter a protest, Meraxes let out an angry shriek, and attacked faster than Maliya would have thought possible. One men came away with a bit hand that he was cradling to his chest, blood dripping down his wrist as he howled and the other had a neat set of bloody scratches across his cheek.

"Wait!" Maliya exploded, throwing up her hands as more of the men started forward. "Wait, please." Her gaze moved to Asher who was obviously the man in charge here and she found herself pleading with him slightly, which she hated. But then again, she was learning there wasn't much she wouldn't do for her dragon. "We made a crate for her for when we travel. I'll put her in there for you as long as you promise me no harm will come to her."

Asher stared at her for a long moment, head tilted to the side and one side of his lips still infuriatingly lifted up in amusement. "You're not exactly in any position to be making demands, but yes, I will do my best to make sure your dragon is safe."

Realizing she wasn't going to get anything much better than that, Maliya looked up at Meraxes who was still staring at the pirates with furious golden eyes. "Back the fuck up," Maliya snapped angrily, throwing them her own fiery glare. Only when they took several steps back did she turn her back on the others in the room and step towards the crate. Reaching up, she pried a displeased dragon from her shoulder, resulting in several claw holes in her dress and a scratch on her shoulder. "It's alright," Maliya breathed soothingly, trying to calm herself so that Meraxes would feel calm. She ran two fingers down the small dragon's neck and between her wings. "We'll make it through this. We just have to wait for the right moment."

She wouldn't say that Meraxes relaxed completely but she did allow Maliya to put her into the crate and shut the door. As soon as she did so, the pirates converged on her, pushing her aside, one lifting the crate and the other wrenching her hands behind her back and tying her wrists together with a piece of rope. Maliya clenched her teeth together, determined not to make a sound at the rough treatment. When the man behind her spun her around again, she saw that Dacey and Daemon were similarily restrained, their weapons and belongings taken up by the rest of the pirates.

"Let's move!" Asher ordered. "Time to see the captain and show them our prize."

Maliya's captor shoved her forward, causing her to stumble into Daemon as they left the cabin. "Did you see his eyes?" Daemon hissed to her in what he probably thought was a quiet voice. "I thought nobody had purple eyes except the Targaryens – "

The man holding Daemon's arm laughed loudly. "Did you hear that, Ash?" He called to the silver haired man in front of them. "This idiot here thinks you're a Targaryen!"

Asher laughed along with him, throwing his head back. "Typical Westerosi, you all are so ignornant. For your information, I was born on Lys, where many people share the same hair and and eye color as I do. It's really not as uncommon as you might think." He paused before climbing the steps leading above deck and looked back at the three prisoners. "Now, when you meet the captain I'd advise you to keep your mouth shut until spoken to else you might find yourself missing a few appendages. Understood?" He waited until they all nodded in agreement. "Alright then. Let's go."

Maliya and the others were led up the steps and into the pouring rain, which drenched them almost immediately. Maliya's stomach lurched as her horrified gaze took in her surroundings. Several pirates were already bringing boxes of their spoils over wooden planks that they had tied between the two ships. Blood and rain drenched the deck of _The Moonrunner_ , where it looked as if most of its crew were lying dead, arrows piercing their bodies or throats slashed open.

Jantara and several others were kneeling, bound and gagged with their own pirate captors standing above them and Captain Tabo was standing beside a large man wearing a hat, his red hair and beard worn long with several braids running throughout it. His unsmiling black eyes watched as Maliya, Dacey and Daemon were marched across the deck, their knees kicked out as they were forced to kneel across from Jantara and the others. "Is that all of them?" The large man asked in a gruff voice, looking at Asher.

"Yes, captain," Asher answered, the arrogance gone from his voice. "The ship is yours."

"Good. I want you all to see what happens when you try and fight Captain Hornigold." Making sure every eye was on him, the captain pulled his sword free, grabbed Captain Tabo's hair in one hand and rammed his sword through his throat with the other. Captain Tabo could do nothing else but widen his eyes in both surprise and pain, choking as the pirate captain pulled his sword free. Jantara let out a muffled shriek of horror and grief as his body collapsed to the deck with a sickening sound.

Both Dacey and Maliya involuntarily moved forward only to be yanked back roughly and Meraxes let out another defiant cry. The noise attracted the pirate captain's attention and his black eyes sought out the sound, his eyes landing on the dragon. A slow, evil smile spread across his face, one that sent a chill of fear down Maliya's spine. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

* * *

 **Author's Note: I'm very excited by the new direction this story is taken! I want to hear from you – any thoughts or predictions about what's coming up in the next couple of chapters? What did you think about the addition of pirates to the story? **Asher in my story is not Asher Forrester. I don't play or follow the game and don't know who he is****

 **Next chapter: We learn more about the new pirate characters and see what they have in store for Meraxes and company. I haven't quite fleshed out an idea about how they escape so if you have any you want to share be my guest! A revelation is shared and a certain aunt might make an appearance as well :)**

Guest 1 - Thanks for your review! I'm still fine tuning the conversations/reactions Maliya and Dany will have to each other - they both are very similar and yet very different to each other.

Guest 2 - Thanks for reviewing! I was holding my breath when writing it, lol, I hope you liked the outcome!

Reader - I'm so glad you liked the chapter, thank you for the kind words! I actually debated a lot about whether or not Robb should say "I love you" back. He loves her obviously, but I wanted to show that he hadn't forgiven her yet. I don't want Maliya to just get away with what she did, because she did something pretty terrible, which she's realizing. A few people said they hoped Maliya was pregnant - my lips are sealed on that one! I can tell you that she will not be having triplets at any point in the story haha that's too much for me! Possibly twins, we'll have to see. You're right, Frey is going to stick his nose right in there - I don't know how long Robb will be able to hold him off! Thanks for reviewing :)

Guest 3 - Thanks for reviewing, glad you love the story so far! Here's the next update!

Guest 4 - Unfortunately I've lost interest in my 100 story at the moment. I ended it pretty neatly after season 2, so we'll see if my muse picks it up again for season 3.

Guest 5 - Here's the update!


	27. Back on Track

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! I won't bore you all with my excuses because I know you don't care, but I hope the length of this chapter makes up for it. Thank you again to those of you were kind enough to leave reviews and I hope you all like this new chapter!**

* * *

Chapter 27: Back on Track

"Incredible," Captain Hornigold breathed, walking around the crate that one of his men was holding. "A real, live dragon. If I wasn't looking at it with mine own eyes, I would never believe it." Maliya tensed as he moved even closer to the crate, bending down to peer at Meraxes, but she needn't have worried. Meraxes let out a defiant screech and flew at the bars of the crate, jaw snapping. Maliya felt a flash of pride as the fearsome pirate captain stumbled back several steps, almost losing his balance and falling flat on his ass. Instead of growing angry or embarrassed, Captain Hornigold let out a bark of dark laughter. "We've got ourselves a feisty one, men!" He crowed triumphantly, looking around with his arms spread wide. "With this one victory, we will make a big enough fortune to split between us for years to come!"

The captain's wicked grin widened as his men cheered and yelled their approval. He waited until they grew silent before speaking again. "Now. For those who surrendered, either peacefully or by force – I am a man of my word and you will be allowed to live. You will all be sold as slaves when we reach Lys. Put them below deck." Varying expressions of horror crossed the faces of the bound prisoners as they were forcibly hauled to their feet and taken across the wooden planks to the pirates' ship. "Whose dragon is it?" He asked, looking towards Asher.

"I believe it's hers, Captain," Asher answered, nodding at Maliya. She shot him a murderous glare which he easily ignored. "She was able to hold it, anyway, and her friends were trying to protect her."

Captain Hornigold nodded once. "Good. Put these two with the others." His men followed his orders immediately, two of them roughly grabbing Dacey and Daemon and shoving them to their feet, haulting them away.

"Wait!" Dacey cried over her shoulder as they both struggled against their captors and their restraints. Maliya let out a surprised yelp as Asher grabbed her arm and lifted her bodily to her feet. "Where are you taking her?" She demanded angrily, still trying to look back at Maliya. "Let go of me – you can't do this, you can't!"

"Be strong," Daemon told her in a loud voice over his shoulder, his blue eyes looking calm despite everything. "Remember who you are."

Maliya watched with a frown as they disappeared through the rain onto the pirate ship. Remember who she was? What did he mean by that?

Targaryen, Martell, Stark… all the names, all the identities swirled around inside her. Didn't he understand that she doesn't know who she is? Who exactly did he want her to be? She was born a Targaryen like her father and her ancestors before her. She was raised as a Martell in Dorne like her mother, but now her home was in the North, with Robb and the rest of the Stark family. So who was she? Was she her past or her future?

"Put her and the dragon in my cabin and wait for me there. I want to see what we've won first," he said to Asher with a greedy glint in his eye.

"Yes, Captain," Asher nodded, bowing his head slightly as the captain passed him and headed across the wooden board to his own ship. Meraxes began screeching loudly again, moving against the bars of the crate and making it difficult for the man holding it. Asher rolled his eyes in exasperation at the man's alarmed and slightly scared expression. "Give it here," he demanded, taking the crate from him in annoyance. "Make yourself useful and go check on the prisoners."

There was a moment where the skinny pirate was scurrying away and Asher was holding her arm loosely with one hand and the other was holding the crate that she could have thrown her body into his and attempt to get away. Not only did she have nowhere to go, however, but she was not going to leave Dacey and Daemon behind. On top of that, she was completely distracted by the fact that Meraxes seemed to calm down slightly when Asher took the crate. What in the Seven Hells? "Let's go," Asher ordered, shoving her forward in front of him. "Move."

Maliya shot him another glare over her shoulder after she stumbled forward, completely off balance with her hands tied behind her back. She walked across the wooden plank and jumped down onto the deck of the pirate ship, discreetly looking around as Asher led her to the captain's cabin. This ship seemed darker, more sinister than _The Moonrunner._ Maybe it was because of the weather or maybe it was because the pirates on deck gave her these sidelong glances that made her feel incredibly uncomfortable.

Asher pushed her inside a room that must've been the captain's cabin. She glanced around her as he set Meraxes down on top of a large desk cluttered with various papers and books. An ornate rug covered the wooden floor on one side of the room where there was an actual bed, but other than that there were several other odds and ends – some jewelery, a few figurines, things that looked like small treasures that the captain decided to keep.

Asher kicked one of the chairs to the center of the cabin and put a hand on Maliya's shoulder, roughly pushing her down into it. "Sit. Don't move," he ordered in a careless voice, turning back to the desk and picking up an apple, taking a bite.

Maliya impatiently shook the wet strands of hair off her face, leaning forward. "What are you planning to do with h – the dragon?" She asked, correcting herself quickly, unwilling to give him any information for free.

Asher's slender blonde eyebrow rose at her demanding tone and he looked mildly amused, which only served to piss her off more. "Me? I'm not planning to do anything with it. It's the captain who makes the decisions. Maybe he'll sell it to the highest bidder… or maybe he'll kill it." He seemed to enjoy the look of horror on her face and he shrugged. "Dragons are dangerous killers. Who knows how many lives we would be saving if we killed it now?"

Maliya's eyes landed on Meraxes, on her tiny, perfect white dragon and her stomach turned violently at the thought of them killing her. "You can't!" She protested in a strangled, desperate voice, unconsciously struggling against the ropes wrapped around her wrists. "The dragon is innocent, it hasn't done anything wrong – "

"And how long do you think that will last? I imagine it's appetite will grow as it does, and when it breathes fire – "

Maliya stopped listening, her eyes widening as she quickly tried to swallow the bile rising in her throat. "Bucket," she gasped, knowing the inevitable was about to happen. She had gotten sick so often since they began to sail that she was able to see the signs before it happened.

"What?" Asher frowned in confusion.

"I need a bucket, I'm going to be sick – " It took a second for him to comprehend what she was saying, and then another to look around the cabin and dive for the bucket lying next to the desk. He was too late – only half the contents of her stomach made it into the bucket he shoved against her chest, the rest, unfortunately, ended up on her dress. Asher wrinkled his nose, staring down at her in disgust as Maliya struggled not to wince at the taste in her mouth.

The door to the cabin suddenly burst open and the captain stepped in out of the rain, his frame filling the doorway. His lip curled and his nostrils flared. "What is that horrible stench?"

"The girl got sick," Asher expained waving a hand in her direction.

"Well? Don't just stand there, take care of it. Quickly, before that smell becomes permanent," the captain ordered in annoyance, walking across the room to the table on the other side of the cabin.

Maliya's eyes darted back towards Asher but if he had any reaction to the order he didn't let it show on his face. He took the bucket from Maliya's lap and walked outside. Her eyes flickered back to the captain to see him pouring a liquid that looked to be some sort of ale into a cup. He ignored her completely, taking a large swig and turning to stare at the dragon thoughtfully.

Asher returned to the cabin, carrying a larger bucket than the one he had left with. "Wait – " Maliya tried to cry as Asher turned towards her and brought the bucket back, but it was too late. Maliya gasped and spluttered as she was once again doused from head to toe with cold water. It wasn't the most effective method for washing away the sick on her dress, but it worked for the most part.

Captain Hornigold watched her glare up at Asher with a mildly intrigued look on his face. "Normally when people find their ship is over taken by pirates, they're filled with fear or pleading for their life. You're doing none of those things." Maliya quickly smoothed out her expression, her brain racing. Would the way that she was acting somehow let them know who she really was? Not her name, of course, but her station and privilege? "You don't seem to be be part of the crew, so tell me… who are you? How did you come to be on that ship? And how is it that you have a dragon?"

Maliya clenched her teeth together, wishing more than anything that she had Dacey and Daemon here with her. They would know what to do, what to say – or what not to say. She forced the panic down, trying not to think about the consequences of being captured by pirates, trying not to think about what would happen to them and to Meraxes.

She tried to imagine what her Uncle Oberyn would do if he were in her position. Aside from several undoubtedly snide and sarcastic remarks, he wouldn't give away any important information that they could use against her. And her father… he wouldn't waste any time being scared. He would be thinking ahead, constantly planning, assessing the situation and learning everything that he could about his captors. So her strategy was to try to embody the two men who taught her everything she knew.

"Why don't you start with your name?" Asher prompted when she stayed quiet, sitting in front of them stoically.

Her mind raced, but this question seemed safe enough to answer. "Lusia," she responded after a moment.

"Alright, Lusia," Asher continued, leaning back against the desk and adopting a very casual manner, one that she assumed was supposed to make her feel comfortable. A huge feat considering her hands were bound, she smelled of vomit, they were captives of pirates and her dragon's life was in danger. "What were you doing aboard that ship?"

"My friends and I were traveling to Slaver's Bay to find my brother," Maliya told him, easily falling back on the lie she had created with Dacey and Daemon. "He left a few years ago and his latest letter said he was traveling to Astapor."

"Why would you leave your home to travel to find someone who _might_ be in a foreign city?" Asher asked, frowning and looking unconvinced.

"I'm not sure what you've heard, but war has broken out in Westeros," Maliya told them, her voice grave. She worked hard to make sure her expression was solemn and her eyes sad. "The kingdoms are splintering apart and our village was raided and plundered. My mother was raped and killed," she murmured, casting her eyes down, her voice involuntarily catching as she told a portion of the truth. "She was the only family I had left besides my brother. My home was burned to the ground and I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"And the dragon?" The captain pressed, sounding impatient as he leaned forward slightly.

"I.. found it."

By the looks of disbelief on both of their faces, Maliya knew they heard the small hesitation in her voice, but it honestly didn't matter. She would never be able to think of a good enough reason for why she had a dragon. She doubted they would even believe the truth. If she told them that she found the egg in a secret room behind Cregan Stark's tomb in the crypts of Winterfell, it would sound like a complete lie.

"You found it," the captain repeated slowly, his beady eyes boring into hers. "Stole it, more like." Maliya didn't say anything to contradict him. It didn't matter what he believed, it wouldn't help her situation at all. "Nakario," he barked, making her jump slightly. A young man stepped inside the cabin, looking as though he were trying to steady his nerves. His black hair was cut close to the head, and his brown eyes kept jumping from the captain, to the floor and back again. "Put her with the others."

Maliya's eyes widened, her head snapping back around to look at the captain. "Wait, what about the dragon?" She asked, her voice growing louder as the Nakario bloke headed towards her. "What are you going to do with it?" Her panicked gaze swung from the captain to Asher and she found herself pleading with him, trying to break past the emotionless expresson on her face. "Please!" She cried as Nakario wrapped a hand around her bicep and lifted her to her feet. Meraxes let out a cry to match hers, growing agitated once more in response to Maliya. "You can't hurt her! You can't! She's done nothing wrong, please, you have to promise me – "

"Shut her up," Captain Hornigold growled in annoyance, waving a hand and turning his back on her.

"No!" Maliya screamed, trying to wrench away from the pirate as Asher moved towards her, pulling his sword free. "Please – " She was abruptly cut off as Asher lifted his sword and brought the hilt down on Maliya's temple. Her body went limp as the darkness enveloped her quickly, the sound of Meraxes' angry shrieks ringing in her ears.

* * *

 **Asher's POV**

Asher sheathed his sword again, crossing his arms and watching as Nakario dragged the girl from the cabin. "She's hiding something," he announced to Red as the cabin door closed. "I don't believe she is who she says she is."

"Obviously," Red drawled as he collapsed in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk. "But it matters not. She's still going to be sold as a slave and we are still going to sell this dragon to the highest bidder." His eyes landed on the small dragon and it hissed at him furiously, its neck snaking forward and its wings flapping uselessly. _Her,_ Asher reminded himself absently. _The girl said that '_ she _had done nothing wrong.'_

"I'd like to question the girl." When Red remained silent and uninterested, he pressed on. "If she stole the dragon, then someone might be looking for them. If she didn't, then she might be someone important and we can hold her for a ransom larger than what we would get at a slave market."

A slow grin was just visible through Red's beard, though it didn't quite touch his eyes. "I've taught you well, boy. When I found you, you were just a dirty, hungry street rat constantly looking for a fight. And now look at you, using every situation to get the biggest prize. Like a true pirate." Asher's fists clenched under his crossed arms, but outwardly he gave no response to his captain's words. He didn't like thinking of the life he was living before Red had found him. Wondering when he would find his next meal, where he would sleep – it wasn't something he wanted to think about, let alone go back to. "Question the girl if you'd like, at least it will keep you occupied until we've reached Lys. Let me know if you find out anything interesting."

"Yes, Captain."

* * *

 **Maliya's POV**

When Maliya slowly crept back into consciousness, the first thing she became aware of was the pounding of her head originating from the lump on her temple. "Unghh," was her pained and muffled groan, her eyes squeezing shut against the pain as she shifted. She went to raise a hand to the lump on her head but the movement was accompanied by an unexpected metallic clanking noise.

She blearily opened her eyes and took stock of her surroundings, the information slowly filtering through her confused brain. The source of the clanking sound was a chain that was nailed into the floor, the other end binding both of her wrists together. She was lying flat on her stomach in a cramped, dark room that smelled strongly of sweat, bodily fluids and something rotten. Her eyes trailed over Jantara and the other crew members from _The Adventure,_ all of which had varying expressions of fear and defeat written across their faces. Dacey and Daemon had moved as close to her as their chains would allow. "Are you alright?" Dacey asked anxiously, eyes worried.

"What happened?" Daemon demanded, looking angry. "Did they hurt you?"

"They asked me questions about where I was going and how I found a dragon," Maliya muttered, carefully sitting up with a wince, her hand going to her head once more and gently probing the lump. "They weren't impressed with my answers."

"And where's…." He trailed off, looking at her expectantly and Maliya heard his unfinished question.

"He has her," Maliya whispered, despair and fear coating her voice. She made to shift further against the wall, chains rattling and sucked in a sharp breath at the intense pain in her stomach. She froze, hardly daring to breathe, waiting with wide eyes.

"What is it?" Dacey demanded quickly, both her and Daemon immediately on alert.

"I – I'm alright," Maliya answered shakily, carefully sitting up again but experiencing no further pain. She had felt a more intense pain like that several moons ago. Quickly taking stock of her body, she came to realize with an overwhelming feeling of relief, that this time there was no warm blood coating the insides of her thighs. Other than the pain in her head, her sore breasts and her conspicuously absent moon's blood… "Oh," she murmured softly, her hand slowly drifting down to cover her stomach, chains clinking. "Oh," she whispered again, a breathtaking smile lifting her lips. An incredible warmth and joy filled her, bubbling in her chest and spreading outwards. An involuntary tear slipped down her cheek and for a second, she forgot where she was and the peril she was in.

Maliya was carrying a child… Robb's child. The timing, of course, couldn't have been worse. She was hundreds of leagues away from her husband and her life was in danger. Anxiety filled her, twisting her insides as fear quickly followed the joy. She didn't want to lose this child the way that she lost the last one. So now, for the first time since she she started this journey, she was questioning whether she made the right decision to find her aunt.

Deep down in the very center of her being, she felt that she was doing the right thing… but what if she was wrong? What if this decision ended not only her life, but Dacey's, Daemon's, her unborn child and her newborn dragon's? She frowned. Hadn't she been the one to tell Robb that he couldn't live by the what ifs when he was trying to keep her safe? Maliya pinched the bridge of her nose, her head pounding with the confusion and uncertainty.

"Who _are_ you?" The voice was loud and demanding and it startled Maliya from her thoughts so badly that she jumped. The three of them looked over to find that it was Jantara that spoke. Her eyes were narrowed in a fierce glare that was directed solely on Maliya. "You obviously lied about who you were to smuggle that damned dragon onto my father's ship. You put us all in danger with your lies and your deceit and now my father is dead along with most of our crew!"

Maliya could practically feel the rage and the grief in Jantara's voice and she flinched, her teeth clenched as a lump formed in her throat. _Lies and deceit_ , Maliya repeated in her head, retreating deep inside herself, horror-stricken, her stomach twisting and churning as if she swallowed several burning snakes. _I've done it again! Is this who I've become? Is this all that I am good for? Hurting the innocent people around me?_

Dacey spoke up to defend Maliya when she remained silent. "I mean no disrespect, Jantara, and I'm sorry for your losses, but those pirates would have attacked your ship whether or not the dragon was on board."

Maliya felt Daemon glance over at her with concern. "We kept our identities and the dragon a secret for both our protection and yours." He was speaking to Jantara but his voice was firm, as if he wanted Maliya to hear his words as well. "If you had information about what could possibly be the only dragon in existence, then your life could be in danger as well as ours."

"You brought a _dragon_ aboard our _ship_ ," Jantara snapped, only growing angrier. "Pirates or not, you still put all our lives in danger. So I'm going to ask you one more time. Who are you?"

"My real name is Rhaenys," she declared in the resulting silence. The name felt odd passing through her lips, but something inside her chest loosened at the words.

She saw both Daemon and Dacey's head snap around to stare at her in shock. "What are you doing?" Daemon hissed under his breath, looking at her as if she were mad.

"I'm tired of hurting the innocent people around me with my secrets," she explained, her voice thick and weary. "First Robb and Tyene and now the crew aboard _The Moonrunner._ I can't live with the guilt anymore!" She cried, grabbing two fistfuls of hair in agitation and pulling slightly. "It's eating me alive and changing me from the inside out. I don't like the person that I'm becoming," she told Dacey and Daemon, looking up at them with her expression contorted in despair. "I made a promise that I would try to be a better person and I'm already failing."

Dacey's gaze was sympathetic and understanding, but Daemon's still looked somewhat stern. "We need to be smart about this adventure of ours, Lusia," he hesitated slightly over the name, obviously unsure which one he should be using. She bit down hard on her tongue to stop the near hysterical giggle from escaping. "We don't know who we can trust, so we can't be sharing all of our secrets with everyone we come across. It's a fine line to walk, but we can't put ourselves in unnecessary danger." His sky blue eyes blazed into her and she found that she couldn't look away. "What would you do to protect your family?"

Her lower lip trembled. _Arianne, Trystane, her father and uncle, the Sand Snakes, Lady Catelyn, Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon…Grey Wind, Meraxes, Robb…their unborn child._ "Anything," she answered resolutely, the faces of the people she loved floating in her mind's eye, her hand unconsciously sliding down to rest over her stomach once more. She didn't notice Dacey's gaze following the movement, a speculative look in her green eyes. Straightening slightly, she glanced between her two companions. "I may still be trying to figure out who I am, but I think the time for hiding is over." What with her newborn dragon and the death of Maliya Martell, this seemed like the next logical step. "For the first time in over six and ten years, I am officially changing my name back to Rhaenys."

* * *

 **Rhaenys' POV**

"Are you sure?" Daemon asked in a quiet voice, understanding the gravity of her decision. "This isn't something you can just take back whenever you feel like it."

"I know," she nodded solemnly, taking a deep breath. "It's going to take some getting used to, of course, but at least this is one secret I don't have to keep anymore." She turned to Jantara and the other's next, who were watching them with expressions of apprehension and confusion. Jantara was still glaring at them angrily, however, and it was to her that Rhaenys spoke. "I am sorry for the loss of your father," she told her sincerely, trying to reach through Jantara's rage. "He was a good man and kind. Nothing I say or do will ease the pain that you're feeling right now. But what I can do… I can promise that I will do everything I can to get you and the rest of your crew off of this ship."

Jantara folded her arms, eyebrow raised almost mockingly as the chains rattled loudly in the small room. "And how exactly do you expect to do that?"

"Well, we can't do anything until we reach Lys," Rhaenys mused out loud. "We don't exactly have anywhere to escape to at the moment."

"Which means we have time to think of a plan," Dacey said, looking around their small group with a determined expression. She looked so confident and so sure of her own words that Rhaenys felt reassured. "I'm not sure about everyone else, but I definitely don't want to become a slave. So let's brainstorm. Anyone have any ideas?"

* * *

 **Dacey's POV**

Sleeping on the hard deck of the ship with that miserable smell permeating the air was near impossible. Sighing, her head lolled to the side to see Daemon lying comfortably with his arm behind his head. Mild irritation ran through her when she heard him snoring softly. That bastard could sleep anywhere.

She turned her head to the other side to see that Maliya – _Rhaenys_ , she corrected herself for the hundredth time, was also awake, curled up on her side. It was incredibly difficult to see through the darkness, but Dacey thought she saw her eyes blinking. "Rhaenys?" Dacey whispered quietly. She did not think that she would ever get used to calling the queen by that name. "Are you awake?"

"Yes."

Dacey frowned at the tone of her voice. "Are you alright? You're sure that purple-eyed freak hasn't been hurting you? He's pulled you out of here to interrogate you multiple times now." Each time that the blonde pirate brought her back, it seemed to Dacey that she withdrew further and further into herself. She looked exhausted and Dacey instinctively knew that she was battling the conflict within herself. Dacey couldn't quite relate to what the queen was going through, but she could understand both sides of her battle. She obviously wasn't as affected by Rhaenys' secrets as King Robb had been, but maybe it was because she could be objective that she could understand why the queen did what she did.

Ever since she was brought to Dorne, she had been told being Rhaenys would cause King Robert to find her and kill her and everyone that she loved. Dacey couldn't imagine living with that secret and that fear from the age of three and she could only guess at the damage that would cause. But then, on the other hand, she could also understand Robb's betrayal at Rhaenys' secrets, especially at the cost of the trust that they had built with each other.

Rhaenys reached through the darkness, finding Dacey's hand and patting it reassuringly. "I'm fine, Dacey," she whispered back, giving her hand one last squeeze before pulling her hand back. "Just slightly disappointed, I suppose. I've been trying to learn as much as possible about the pirates and their ship but I haven't been able to get much of anything out of Asher. Nothing seems to phase him. Although…" she trailed off. "There's something about him."

"What do you mean?" Dacey frowned.

"I'm not sure. It's like something that's nagging in the back of my mind everytime I look at him, but I can't quite figure out what it is." She sounded confused and lost for a second, before clearing her throat and continuing on. "Anyway, all he does is ask questions about who I am, where we came from and the dragon. We can make as many different escape plans as we want, but if we can't get out of these chains then there's nothing that we can do. "

"We'll think of something, don't worry." A moment of silence followed her words and Dacey chewed over a question that she had been wanting to ask for a while now. She'd been holding off because of other ears listening to whispered conversations. "Your Grace? Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course. And please, Dacey, just call me R-Rhaenys."

Dacey's lip twitched when she heard her stumble over her own name. "Is that as weird for you to say as it is to hear it?"

"You have no idea," Rhaenys sighed softly. "Hopefully the more often I hear it, the easier it will be to get used to. Was that your question?"

"No." Dacey hesitated again, not wanting to over step her bounds. "Are you… are you with child?"

She waited anxiously for the answer, straining to hear through the darkness. Rhaenys was silent for a long moment. "Yes… I think I am. Robb and I were – we were… intimate before that fight and I haven't had my moon's blood since. With everything going on recently, I just hadn't noticed."

"So what we thought was sickness from the sea was actually sickness caused by the child," Dacey mused out loud, a grin beginning to spread across her face. "But this is wonderful, congratulations! Now the North will have its heir." Dacey clung to this piece of good news, trying to forget for their current predicament for the moment. "How do you feel?"

"Physically, I feel fine," Rhaenys told her, shifting slightly. "Just a little nausea every once in a while. Other than that… I'm happy, of course. Actually, I can't remember the last time I was this happy about anything." Dacey thought she could hear a smile in the other woman's voice. "But then there's also the shock, the excitement, uncertainty, fear, and anxiety. It's all very overwhelming."

Dacey blinked. "That is a lot to be feeling at one time," she agreed quietly. "Maybe – maybe once we reach Lys we should find a way back home instead of to Astapor. If you're carrying the heir, then we we need to keep the child safe – "

"The plan remains the same."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Dacey sighed.

"Besides this one small snag with the pirates, trying to find my aunt is probably safer than returning to a war ravaged Westeros where the most powerful family is trying to kill me specifically. If we can't find my aunt, then we'll return, Dacey, I promise. We still have some time before we have to go back. Belive me, I have no intention of delivering this baby without my husband by my side."

* * *

 **Rhaenys' POV**

Rhaenys wearily rolled her head in circle, biting back an irritated sigh. Her hands were once again bound behind her with rope and she was sitting there facing a smirking Asher once more. "Haven't we been through this already?" She asked, exasperated. "You ask me a bunch of questions, I ignore them and then you send me back to that miserable room. It's getting monotonous."

"This will all be over if you would just tell me the truth about who you are," he drawled casually, crossing his arms and slouching back against the desk. "Your answer _might_ save you from eternal slavery."

"Where is my dragon?" Maliya demanded, ignoring him completely. Since she had been separated from Meraxes, there had been an empty hole in her chest that made her feel like a part of herself was missing. It had been filled slightly upon learning about her child, but she knew she wouldn't be complete without her dragon. "Has she been eating? Have you been letting her out of the crate to move around? I want to see her."

"The dragon is fine," Asher told her, waving his hand dismissively. "I would seriously reconsider your silence. It won't be long now until we reach Lys and once we do, there's no escaping the fate awaiting you there." _Not long until we reach Lys… they needed to get their plan together, and fast._ She filed that piece of information away to tell the others later. "You know, there are ways that I could get you to talk."

"You can't hurt me," she said at once, her heart pounding at the threat, struggling against the ropes as one of Asher's hands drifted to a dagger in his belt. "I'm the only one who can control the dragon, you need me."

"I'm not so sure about that," Asher disagreed with his smirk almost spreading into a pleased grin. Rhaenys' eyebrows furrowed, her head cocked to the side again as she stared at him. _What in the Seven Hells was it about him? He seemed almost… familiar, somehow._ "The other men are either wary or afraid of your dragon, but I am not. She listens to me the best and will allow only me to feed her." Her eyes narrowed at the flash of jealousy that went through her; she was supposed to be the only one who could control and take care of Meraxes. Why would she allow this man to do it? Just picturing him holding and taking care of Meraxes made her feel incredibly betrayed, her heart twisting painfully. "So really, we don't need you at all."

"I'm with child," Rhaenys blurted without thinking, her eyes widening upon hearing what she said.

Asher cocked an eyebrow, his purple eyes flickering down to her still flat stomach with a doubtful expression on his face. "You don't look it."

"It's still early."

"You would say anything to save your life."

"I would say anything to save my _child's_ life," she argued heatedly. The conviction in her voice was impossible to ignore and she saw the doubt reflected in his unnerving eyes. "Are you willing to have the death of an unborn child on your conscience?"

"Do I have to remind you of your friends that we have in chains right below us?" He asked, quickly switching gears. "Maybe I should bring one of them up here to loosen your tongue. Who would you prefer? The male or the female?"

"Don't you touch them," Rhaenys snapped furiously, the anger abruptly coursing through her body. "They've done nothing wrong, all they've done is try to help me."

"Help you with what?" Rhaenys' mouth snapped shut so quickly that her teeth clicked together. Asher saw the defiance in her eyes and annoyance flashed across his face. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it back away from his face for a split second and Rhaenys' entire body tensed, shock running through her.

' _Your journey will be difficult, Rhaenys, but I have faith in you. It's important to know that you will not make this journey alone. Trust your heart and your instincts and you will go far.'_ Her father's face, Rhaegar's face, appeared in her mind's eye and she suddenly realized why Asher looked so familiar. With his hair pulled back like that he was the splitting image of Rhaegar Targaryen. His purple eyes were even the same deep violet shade.

It felt like something heavy was pressed against her chest, restricting her ability to breathe. _It's not possible… it couldn't be possible… and yet, I shouldn't be alive either. If someone smuggled me out of King's Landing, then why not him?_

She struggled to focus through her jumbled and confused thoughts as Asher spoke once more, oblivious to the battle raging on inside her. "We'll start with the woman first," he announced, beginning to head towards the door.

 _Dacey._

"Wait!" She cried desperately, struggling against her bonds once more. "My name is Rhaenys Targaryen." She waited with bated breath as Asher froze with his hand on the door handle, his shoulders tensed. She knew she was taking an enormous risk, but as far as she could tell, this could go one of two ways. Either Asher had no idea who she was and would use this against her, or her insane gut instinct was right and… well, then she didn't have a clue what would happen. "My parents were Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell," she continued, speaking quickly. "When I was three years of age, my father died, my mother was raped and murdered and my baby brother's head was smashed against a wall - "

" _Enough_!" Rhaenys jumped and flinched as Asher whirled around, his face contorted, finally showing some emotion other than indifference and amusement. "The Targaryens are dead. Their entire line was wiped out by the Usurper so shut your fucking mouth!"

Rhaenys was unphased by his anger, though her heart did pick up at his words. "The Usurper? Is that what they call him in Lys?" She asked pointedly, tilting her head to the side as she peered up at him.

His lip curled up into a snarl, violet eyes flashing. "Get up," he snapped, grabbing her arm and forcibly hauling her to her feet. "I'll hear no more of your lies."

"Lies?" She panted, half laughing and half gasping as she struggled to keep up with Asher's long legs as he hurried down the stairs. "You wouldn't even believe the irony of that statement. That's the first truth that I've told in a long time."

He shook her violently and her head spun. "I told you to shut up," he scowled. "Move," he ordered the pirate guard standing before their small prison. The guard hurried out of the way at the look on Asher's face as he threw the door open, tossing her inside. Rhaenys landed painfully on her side with a small cry, nearly cracking her head against the floor.

"Watch it!" Daemon shouted angrily. He struggled to reach her but the chains held him firmly in place.

"Chain her back up!" Asher barked over his shoulder as he stormed off. Rhaenys stayed quiet and obedient as the other pirate came into the room, fastening the chains back over her wrists.

"What happened?" Daemon demanded, helping her sit up further.

"Are you alright?" Dacey asked over him, looking significantly down at her stomach with the subtlety of a small explosion.

"I'm fine," she told Dacey firmly, narrowing her eyes at her. "I finally found out something useful. He said it won't be long now until we reach Lys. We need to finalize our plan if we have any chance of escaping."

"We can't do anything until we figure out a way to get rid of these chains," Dacey said, holding her hands up and shaking them so the chains rattled loudly.

"That guard out there keeps a key in his right pants pocket." The three of them turned to look at Jantara, who was hunched back against the opposite wall, still looking sullen and angry. She hadn't spoken much since they've been captured, just listened to their attempts at making an escape plan and pointing out flaws here and there. "What? I saw him put it in there when he took Lusi – Rhaenys out of here."

"Do you think you could get it off him the next time that purple eyed freak pulls you out of here?" Daemon asked.

"Careful with that," Rhaenys warned half-heartedly. "But yes, I think I would be able to get the key." If Asher ever came to get her , if he thought she was lying, he might not. "Alright, so I get the key and we take these chains off. That pirate only has one weapon on him. So what do we do next?" She asked, looking around the room. "And how do we get Meraxes back when we don't know where she is?"

* * *

It was two full days before Asher sent for her again. She had begun to think that they would reach Lys and have to escape before she saw him again. The past two days had been absolute torture for her and she had just begun to doubt her instincts.

Now, she was sitting in that damned chair again, her hands tied. Asher was pacing back and forth across the room, extremely agitated. He'd barely looked at her let alone spoken a word to her since she'd sat down ten minutes ago. She wanted to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling – she wanted to know what he was planning to do next. But he was the one who brought her here so she was going to wait for him to speak first.

"Who are you?" He asked, finally turning to look at her, pushing back the silver blonde hair that fell across his forehead and into his eyes. "The truth, this time."

Brown eyes met violet. "My name is Rhaenys Targaryen. My parents were Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When I was three – "

"The truth!" He interrupted with frustration, hands clenching into fists.

"My name is Rhaenys Targaryen and my parents were – "

"Stop it!" He roared, causing her to flinch back as he took a step forward, glaring. "I already told you, the Targaryen line died during the Rebellion."

Rhaenys unconsciously leaned toward him even in the face of his terrible anger. "The Targaryen line lives on," she insisted passionately, trying to convince him of the truth. "Listen to me. The body that they found, that wasn't me. Someone smuggled me out of King's Landing and brought me to Dorne, to my uncles. I had to take a different name, assume a new identity. I was raised there, under the nose of the Usurper." She still saw the doubt on his face and she sat back with a huff. "If I wasn't a Targaryen, then how do you explain how that dragon hatched for me? Nobody can truly steal a dragon, no matter how small it is, they would have no control over it. So that got me thinking. Why would my dragon take to you so quickly when it was weeks before it took to my friends? Then there's the fact that besides the hair and the scar across your eye, you are the spitting image of Rhaegar Targaryen." She shook back her hair from her face with an annoyed twitch of her head. "Now it's my turn to ask. _Who are you_?"

His head shook back and forth in denial, taking several steps back with his eyebrows furrowed. "It's not possible," he muttered frantically, a tinge of anger still in his voice. "I was led to believe that they were all gone, that I was the only one left – "

"Who are you?" Rhaenys repeated, raising her voice above his ramblings. Her own fists were clenched so tightly that her fingernails were biting into her skin. Her entire body felt as if it were vibrating with energy, the adrenaline pumping through her veins and making her heart break into a sprint. There was a fist sized knot in her throat and when she spoke, her voice sounded strangled. "Say it. I need to hear you say it."

"Aegon," he finally admitted. "My name is Aegon Targaryen."

The floor dipped beneath her and her breath left her in a gasp. Part of her had been expecting to hear those words, had wanted to hear them, but it still seemed so unbelievable. "Aegon. Seven hells," she breathed. Her little brother was alive and somehow, miraculously, they had found each other. Although if she had ever envisioned this moment before, he certainly wouldn't have looked like the young man standing before her. With that scar over his eye, that tooth earring hanging from his ear and the black dragon tattoo, he looked more like an intimidating pirate than her baby brother. "How - how did you escape King's Landing? Where have you been all these years? And how did you become…"

"A pirate?" He finished wryly, that smirk returning for a moment before it disappeared. "I don't remember how I was smuggled out of King's Landing, obviously. My first memory was in Pentos, where I was raised by a man called Jon Connington. He was my – our, I guess," He corrected, looking confused and slightly lost. "Father's friend. The world believed he had drunk himself to death, but we still moved often so the Usurper would never find us. During my tenth year, from what I could understand, Connington's past caught up to him. Several men from the Golden Company must have recognized him and in the battle he died. I fled and for several moons I lived in the streets until I was found by Red – by Captain Hornigold. He saved my life." He fell silent again and in the silence, his purple eyes found hers again. "I have traveled the world. I've seen both beautiful and terrible things, met all kinds of different people… but how is it that you happened to be on the ship that we attacked?"

"I don't know," Rhaenys murmured, shrugging her shoulders as best she could with her arms tied behind her back. "It's almost like it was fate. Like we were brought together for a reason."

"And what reason would that be?"

"Before your ship attacked us, my friends and I were on our way to find our Aunt Daenerys," she told him, belatedly wondering if she was doing the right thing. He may somehow be her brother, but she didn't know him – he was a virtual stranger to her. Then again the dream or vision of her father had told her to trust her heart and her instincts. Wasn't that what she had been doing since she decided to find her aunt? "Maybe you're supposed to come with us. Maybe you're supposed to put your pirate life behind you and help put our family back together."

"I have an aunt?" Aegon questioned faintly, looking overwhelmed.

"With three dragons of her own," Rhaenys added helpfully, wondering if his mind was reeling as much as hers was.

"This is all so fucked up!" Aegon abruptly yelled, becoming angry and pacing once more. Rhaenys jumped again, frowning when she realized how upset he was. "I have a good thing here, I like my life. I'm the captain's right hand man, the crew respects me and my life is full of excitement and adventure. And now you come along. How am I supposed to live with myself if I knowingly sell my sister into slavery?"

There was so much wrong with that question that Rhaenys didn't even know where to begin. Though she was glad to see that there was some morality behind that pirate exterior. "Listen, I've been where you are, I know what it's been like – "

"No, you don't," Aegon disagreed shortly, sounding bitter. "If you were taken to the Martells in Dorne, then you were raised as a princess, whereas I was shipped halfway across the world, never settling in one place for too long. We were always looking over our shoulder, always running. Do you know what it's like to never make any real friends? To watch the man who was supposed to protect you die in your arms? To have to nowhere to live or to have to steal and beg for whatever scraps of food you can get?"

Rhaenys' heart broke hearing the pain and the fury in his voice. "You're right," she said softly. "I can't even imagine what you've been through and I'm sorry that you had to do it all at such a young age. None of this should have ever happened. We should have grown up together, we should have been raised by our own parents. We shouldn't have had to deal with everything that we've been through. But that life was stolen from us," she spat, speaking fervently now that she had Aegon's undivided attention. "That's part of the reason I'm heading to the other side of the world to find our aunt – to put our family back together and to hopefully gain an ally that will help us get justice for the people who destroyed us." Aegon was now looking at the floor, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. When he remained silent, she continued on. "I know more than anyone how confusing it is to have two different identities battling inside you, never truly knowing who you really are. Asher was a name you created to protect yourself but it's also been your identity for the past several years and it's helped shaped who you are today. Listen, my entire life I've thought you were dead. I used to imagine what kind of person you would have been, what kind of man you would have become - " She broke off, her throat closing up as her eyes welled with tears. "I don't know you. I don't know what kinds of things you had to do to survive. But I don't care. All I care about is the fact that you're my brother and I don't want to lose this chance to get to know you."

"What are you saying?" He whispered, watching her once more.

"I have no intention of losing my friends and my dragon and I bloody hell am not giving birth as a slave," she told him heatedly. "We're planning to escape this ship when we reach Lys and I want you to come with us."

"Why are you telling me this?" Aegon asked, crossing his arms with a serious expression. "I just told you I was the captain's right hand man. One word from me and your escape plan is useless."

"It's a risk," Rhaenys agreed, nodding and sending up a quick prayer that her instincts were right. "A huge risk. But I wasn't telling Asher the Pirate. I was talking to my brother Aegon, someone who I hope will want to get to know me as much as I want to get to know him."

She finally stopped speaking, waiting for his next words with baited breath. She had said everything that she could think of to say in order to get him to leave with her and now the decision rested with him. It seemed like ages passed before he finally spoke. "I'll help you escape, but I'm not coming with you."

Disappointment flooded her, her heart sinking all the way passed her stomach and down to her toes. This was wrong. How was she supposed to leave him behind when she had just found him again? Embarrassingly, tears began to fill her eyes. "But Aegon, if the captain finds out we escaped and that you helped us, your life could be in danger! He doesn't seem like a very forgiving man – "

"He's not, which is why he won't find out," Aegon responded, his face turning blank as he straightened and helped her stand once more. "We reach Lys the day after tomorrow. Make sure you're ready."

"Please think about what I've said," Rhaenys pleaded, once more jogging along to keep up with Aegon as her brought her back to their small prison. "We're family, Aeg – Asher," she corrected in a hushed voice. "We should be togeth – "

"Be quiet," he hissed as another pirate approached them. "You have no idea what you're asking. Just be ready."

* * *

 **Aegon's POV**

Aegon didn't sleep more than an hour the night before and he was beginning to feel the exhaustion seeping through him. Part of him wished that he had never insisted on trying to figure out who the girl with the dragon was. If he hadn't, then he wouldn't have to worry about risking his life trying to make escape plans. But on the other hand, he wouldn't have known the girl was actually, somehow, his sister.

For so long he had thought that he was alone. When he was living with Jon, their relationship was more like a teacher and his mentor than like a father and his son. Day in and day out was spent learning how to rule, since before he could even walk. He learned how to fight, read and write, fish, cook, anything that Jon could think of, he taught Aegon. It wasn't much of a childhood at all, so when Jon died, Aegon was on his own, but he was also free to do what he liked.

That's probably why he liked being a pirate so much – it was completely different to what his life was like before the age of ten.

And now… now he had family several feet below him. It was incredibly bizarre and so unexpected that part of him still couldn't believe it. Yet he couldn't deny the proof that her dragon brought. From what he understood from his travels, only descendents with the blood of Old Valyria could hatch a dragon egg and their Targaryen line was directly descended from the first King Aegon.

 _Rhaenys was alive._ Gods, no matter how many times he said it, it still didn't feel real.

Taking a deep breath, Aegon headed into the room that the crew shared, pushing his way through both men and hammocks. He grinned at the men as they greeted him and clapped him on the back. "What do ya have there, Asher?" One of them called out, eyeing the cask tucked under Asher's arm.

"Rum!" Another cried hopefully.

"A celebration!" Asher shouted, raising one arm in the air and grinning as the others cheered loudly around him, stomping their feet. "We are one day away from becoming the richest pirates to ever sail any of the seas!" More cheering and shouting. Aegon set the cask on one of the boxes and mugs were quickly passed around to everyone. "To our fearsome captain and the best crew a pirate could ask for! There's no one else that I would rather fight and plunder beside."

"Hear, hear!" The pirates responded, raising their mugs and drinking. Several pirates began to drum out a beat on some of the nearby boxes, and then an off-key song quickly followed. Aegon stayed for a while, nursing his one mug of rum and mingling with the others so that he was seen by others. It was the perfect plan. The crew would be too distracted by the rum to notice what was going on below them and too drunk to recall when he left the celebrations.

When his crew was sufficiently drunk, carefree and laughing loudly, he slipped out the doors again and headed towards where they were keeping the prisoners. He stopped in his cabin, picking up the prisoners' bags from where he had stashed them earlier. Luckily he didn't come across anyone roaming around, but he still proceeded cautiously to be safe. He peered around the corner to see that it was Nakario who was standing guard tonight. Pulling out his dagger, he moved quickly, leaping forward before Nakario could turn towards him and smashing the hilt down on his temple and watching as he collapsed at his feet. "Sorry, mate."

Heart pounding with anxeity, Asher fished around in Nakario's pockets for the key. He threw open the door, dragging the other pirate inside and shutting it behind him. Seven heads turned towards him as he entered, but his eyes focused only on his sister and the job he had to do. "Here," he said, tossing her the key. "We need to move quickly."

"Are you sure we can trust this guy?" Aegon heard the male ask her in a hushed voice.

"He's my brother, Daemon."

"Yes, I know, you keep saying that as if it's a reason to trust him. But you don't know him. What if this is some kind of trap?"

"If it gets us out of here, it's a risk I'm willing to take," Rhaenys responded briskly. "I want my dragon back and I would rather die than become a slave. Now come on, help me free the others."

While Rhaenys and her friends freed the others from their chains, Aegon dragged Nakario into the corner of the room, and chained him up, gagging him with a piece of cloth for good measure so the other men wouldn't hear him yelling. "I believe I was able to grab all your things," Asher said in a distracted voice, placing the bags in the middle of the room and ignoring the death glare that the Summer Islander woman was sending his way as she grabbed her bow and arrow. They picked up up their bags and slung them across their shoulders, buckling on various weapons. Their small group needed to move as quickly as possible if he was going to get them off this ship without being detected. "The rowboat is already prepped for when we reach Lys tomorrow. I snuck some sleeping draught to the man who's on watch in the crow's nest so the only person we need to take care of is the helmsman. Do you think you can handle that?" He asked, looking to Rhaenys' two companions and they nodded. "Rhaenys and I will grab the dragon from the captain's cabin and meet you at the boat."

Rhaenys buckled some sort of belt around her waist, slipping two daggers into the back of it. He cocked an eyebrow as he watched her. Did she even know how to use those? "And where is the captain?" She asked, looking over at him while throwing a cloak over her shoulders.

"He's down in the cargo hold cataloging the goods before we sell them tomorrow. Come on, we need to move. I'll go first just incase we run into some of the crew, you all follow behind me."

Moving slowly and carefully, Aegon opened the door and peeked out to make sure the coast was clear. He stepped outside, Rhaenys, the _Moonrunner_ crew members and Rhaenys' two companions following behind him. Aegon led them up the steep stairs to the level above, where the sounds of the rest of the crew singing and celebrating loudly could be heard. "Did you have something to do with that?" Rhaenys asked in a hushed voice.

"It's the easiest way to distract the men," he responded. Putting a finger to his lips, he crept up the final set of stairs leading to the main deck, looking around. Fortunately for them. the moon was hiding behind the clouds so they had the cover of darkness. "Rhaenys, with me. You two go to the quarterdeck and take out the helmsman. The rest of you wait until the coast is clear before heading for the boat. We don't want the alarm to be raised."

"Wait," Rhaenys' female friend suddenly hissed, grabbing the sleeve of her cloak. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Do you want one of us to go with you?"

A significant, unspoken look passed between the two women, one that had the male friend looking between them in confusion. Aegon ignored his mild curiosity and checked the main deck again in agitation. They did not have time for this. Didn't they understand that he was risking his life by helping them escape?

"I'm fine, Dacey, just do what Aegon says and we'll meet you at the boat. Alright?" The woman named Dacey nodded reluctantly and Aegon ushered Rhaenys up the steps with him, a hand on her back.

Rhaenys followed quietly behind him as he crouched low and hugged the side of the ship, staying out of the open so the helmsman wouldn't see them. They paused in front of the door to the cabin and Aegon glanced behind him, a finger raised to his lips. "Wait here, let me make sure there's no one inside," he breathed, slipping a dagger out of the side of his belt. She quickly followed suit and nodded.

Hiding the dagger behind his back, he casually opened the door and strode inside, his eyes darting all around the room to make sure it was empty. He gestured for Rhaenys to follow him in and the dragon let out what Aegon could only describe as a delighted cry. Smiling widely, Rhaenys pushed past him and rushed over to the small white dragon. "Meraxes," she murmured happily, pushing a hand through the bars. "I am so sorry that you've been stuck in that crate all this time. I promise, after this I will never lock you up again!"

The dragon, Meraxes, nuzzled her small head into Rhaenys' hand a low growling in her throat that Aegon thought sounded a bit like purring. "Hate to break up this reunion but we need to meet the others at the boat. Make sure she stays quiet or all of this has been for nothing."

"Did you hear that?" Rhaenys murmured, bending down until her brown eyes were level with the dragon's golden ones. "You need to stay quiet. _Lyka, Merakses._ "

The dragon blinked up at her. "Was that Valyrian? Did she understand you?" Aegon asked curiously, momentarily forgetting the urgency of the situation.

"No idea," Rhaenys responsed breezily, shrugging a shoulder. "Let's find out." She put her dagger away and carefully picked up the crate with two hands. She had just started turning toward him when Aegon heard what sounded like footsteps approaching the cabin. He acted immediately and on instinct, striding three steps across the cabin, grabbing Rhaenys with one hand and pressing his dagger to her throat with the other.

"What are you doing?" She hissed in fear and confusion, struggling against him. He ignored her, tightening his hold as the door was flung open and Red strode in.

He stopped short when he saw them in his cabin and his expression turned into that familiar anger. "What in the hells is going on here?" He demanded, his black eyes finding Aegon.

"I caught her trying to steal the dragon, Captain," Aegon responded, straightening his shoulders and carefully keeping his face blank so that he wouldn't give his lie away.

"How did she get out?" He thundered, his dark eyes flashing and his voice deepening. Aegon forced away the childhood flashbacks of when Red used to take out his anger on him, not acknowledging the smallest of shivers that ran down his spine.

"I don't know," Aegon lied again. "I was coming to you to find out our plans for the dragon tomorrow when I found her in here."

The captain made an angry noise in the back of his throat, prying the dragon's crate from Rhaenys hands and setting it back on the desk. "Oh, shut the fuck up," the captain snapped at the dragon's cry of displeasure. "I swear, I'll never be so happy to sell anything in my entire life. This fucking dragon doesn't ever shut up, I haven't slept in days."

"That's because she doesn't belong with you," Rhaenys growled, struggling against Aegon once more so fiercely that the point of his dagger dug into her neck slightly, drawing blood. Aegon inwardly cursed, trying to hold onto her and not slit her throat at the same time.

Red took a step forward, backhanding her across the face and making her head snap to the side. Anger filtered through Aegon as he watched her wipe the blood off her lip with the back of her hand. "The dragon does not belong to you either, not anymore. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you will adjust to your new life as a slave."

"Never," Rhaenys vowed.

A slow, empty grin spread across Red's face, one that was even more terrifying than his anger. "Perhaps I'll just kill you," he declared with a shrug, slowly pulling his sword free. "With the dragon, the other prisoners and all the goods we won, the amount I would get for you is hardly worth the trouble you cause. How would you like to die? Decapitation?" He asked softly, seeming to savor the moment as his sword flicked up with her neck. Aegon felt Rhaenys' freeze against him and he clenched his teeth. "A clean stab through the heart?" The sword point moved down to her chest. "Or how about through the stomach?"

"No," she breathed, shrinking back against him as the sword moved down to point at her stomach. "Please," she whispered, her voice twisted with fear. A hand covered her stomach protectively and he could feel her trembling against him. It was such an abrupt change from the aggressive defiance that she was just showing that Aegon frowned at the back of her head in bewilderment. And then he remembered Rhaenys telling him that she was with child. At the time, he had assumed she was saying anything she could to save herself and her friends, but the fear that he could feel coming off her body was real.

Red's grin only widened at the terror on her face and Aegon instinctively felt his body tense, his heartrate picking up at the look on his captain's face. He could feel the situation building and knew that something was going to happen soon.

He felt like his very soul was being torn in two. Red had given him food when he was starving and a place to live. He had taught him how to fight and survive in a cruel and unfair world. Red had saved his life and he owed him so much.

On the other hand there was Rhaenys, the sister that he had thought was dead, and apparently an unborn niece or nephew. They represented the family that he had never gotten the chance to know and a whole different set of responsibilities that he wanted no part of. His life was simple – sure there were hard days at sea when their hunt took longer than expected, but those were also days where he got to enjoy being out on the open waters drinking with his men. There were women with no ties when they made port and the thrill of the adventure when they set their sights on an unsuspecting ship.

Family…. Family was messy.

"A slow and painful death it is," Red promised. He brought his sword back and made to stab her stomach but Aegon found himself instinctively pushing Rhaenys out of harms way, his dagger clashing with Red's sword to halt it's progress. Shock filtered through Red's expression, his black eyes widening. "What do you think you're doing?"

 _I don't know,_ Aegon's mind responded as he used Red's shock to his advantage, shoving his sword arm to the side and raising a leg to kick him in the chest.

Red stumbled back several steps before he caught his balance. "I've given you everything," he thundered in his deep voice, black eyes flashing. He drew himself up to his fullest height, his imposing presence seeming to fill the entire cabin. "I fed you. I clothed you. I taught you everything I know and trusted you as my second in command. And now you think you can betray me, _boy_?" He laughed, a deep, unamused laugh. "You'll die for this."

"You always did talk too much," Aegon smirked, taunting him. With a roar that seemed to shake the room, Red rushed at him, sword raised. Aegon moved quickly, pulling his own sword out of his sheath in time for their blades to connect. He was dimly aware of Rhaenys scrambling out of the way as the sound of steel clashing filled the cabin, their swords flashing quickly. Red came at him with the brute strength that he was known for and Aegon cursed, gritting his teeth. The cabin was small and cramped and he was finding it difficult to fully swing his sword.

He managed to block the first three blows, duck under the fourth, but when he went to sidestep the fifth thrust, he slammed his leg into the desk, rattling the dragon's crate and making her shriek. Red grinned as he drew first blood, his sword slicing Aegon's left bicep and making him hiss in pain. The burning of his arm and the feeling of the warm blood flowing freely only increased his anger and his drive to win. He surprised Red by lunging forward and going on the offensive.

He constantly changed his moves, teeth bared. He swung at his head, thrust at his chest, faked a blow with the sword and successfully stabbed his side with the dagger. Red roared with pain and Aegon was forced to release the dagger and skip backwards as he swung wildly at him. Red pulled the dagger out with a grunt, and sent it flying towards him. Aegon quickly ducked and before he knew it Red was standing in front of him, knocking his sword out of his hand and grabbing his throat.

He choked and gasped for breath, eyes wide as he stared up at his captain's still ginning face. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Red pull back his sword arm and he desperately grabbed his wrist to stop the blade from impaling him. He was using all his strength, but with the lack of oxygen filtering into his body, both he and Red knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"No!" Rhaenys cried in despair. She launched herself at Red, plunging her own daggers into his back. Aegon used Red's scream to his advantage, wrenching his sword arm to the side and sending him staggering back. Coughing and greedily gasping for air, Aegon crouched low to the floor, the world coming back into focus. He scrambled for his own sword as Red shoved Rhaenys off him, sending her crashing into the wall.

Red staggered again and swayed, bracing himself against the desk. He collapsed to his knees as Aegon rose to his feet, his eyes noticing the blood soaking through his shirt from the three stabs wounds they had inflicted. Panting, his eyes filled with pain, he looked up at Aegon. "Why?" He growled in a voice tinged with agony, anger and confusion.

"Because," Aegon began, walking towards him, sword in hand. He shoved away any guilt, hardening his heart to do what needed to be done. "She's my sister." And with that, he thrust his sword through his captain's heart. He watched as the light faded from his eyes, a gurgling sound escaping from his throat as he collapsed back on the floor and took his last breath.

"Aegon?" Blinking, he looked down to see Rhaenys lighly touching his arm, looking up at him with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," he answered, dimly realizing how empty and wooden his voice sounded.

He knew Rhaenys didn't quite believe him, but she didn't press any further. With a hard look on her face, she pulled her daggers from Red's back, cleaning them off before slipping them back in the holster in her belt. She retrieved Aegon's dagger and he mechanically followed suit while she picked up the dragon's crate. "Come on, we need to go," she murmured softly, grabbing his hand and gently pulling him to the door. When he resisted and stayed where he was, she turned to him with a stern look on her face. "Look at me, Aegon." Frowning, unable to think properly, he did as she asked. "You have just killed your captain. I'm sorry for your loss, I really am. I know how much he must have meant to you. But there's no way you can stay now, your crew will kill you for this. You have to come with us."

"I can't, I – "

"You're my brother and I am _not_ letting you die." Aegon recognized the familiar, stubborn look in her eyes and realized that she wasn't going to give up. His eyes found Red's body again and deep down he knew that his life as a pirate was over. He may be hesitant to go with Rhaenys but he definitely didn't want to die for his betrayal. A sigh of relief left her when he finally nodded and she smiled up at him, taking his hand once more.

He let her lead him out of the cabin and once they were outside they broke into a run. A glance up at the quarterdeck showed the helmsman's body lying on the floor so at least that part of the plan had gone off without a hitch. They approached the part of the ship where the rowboat was prepared and saw Daemon and the Summer Islander woman waiting.

"Rhaenys!" Daemon called, the tension practically leaving his body at the sight of her. "Thank the Gods." His bloodied sword was still in his hand, but he was careful as he pulled Rhaenys into quick hug. "And Mera!" He stuck his fingers into the bars of the dragon's crate and grinned when she halfheartedly nipped at him. "It's good to see you too," he chuckled, pulling his fingers to safety. "Come on. We lowered the boat into the water and Dacey took the others down already, they're waiting for us."

"What is _he_ doing here?" The woman snapped. In one fluid movement she notched and drew her golden bow and aimed it at Aegon. "He's a pirate, he's not coming with us."

"Stop!" Rhaenys hastily said, quickly stepping between himself and the arrow. Everybody froze and the tension between the four of them increased tenfold. The dragon shuffled her wings restlessly, snaking her head forward at the potential threat and letting out a warning hiss. "You can't kill him, he's helping us escape – "

"He killed people I care about, people that I thought of as family," the woman snapped, hatred etched across her face. "His captain killed my father – "

"Captain Hornigold is dead!" Rhaenys interrupted heatedly, effectively shutting her up. "Aegon just killed him to save me and help us escape. Please, Jantara," she murmured softly. Aegon stared at the back of her head, surprised by the amount of emotion in her voice. She barely knew him – why was she continually risking her life for him? "He's my brother. I can't lose him…. Not again."

Jantara's eyes narrowed at her and for a long moment Aegon thought she was going to release the arrow anyway. Still glaring furiously, she reluctantly lowered her bow. "Fine. But if I sense even one hint of a betrayal from him, I'm going to kill him."

"Agreed," Rhaenys nodded, sending Aegon a pointed look over her shoulder that clearly told him not to cause any trouble. "Now, let's get out of here before we're caught."

Rhaenys and Jantara carefully but quickly climbed down the rope ladder over the side of the ship to the rowboat gently bobbing on the water. Aegon and Daemon tied another rope to the dragon's crate and slowly lowered her down to Rhaenys. When Aegon made to follow them, however, Daemon gripped his arm tightly.

When he looked over at the other man, he found himself staring into a pair of hardened blue eyes. "I know you're supposedly her brother, but if you do anything to hurt Rhaenys or endanger her life, Jantara's not the only one that you're going to have to worry about. Understand?"

"Perfectly," Aegon answered with a smirk, ripping his arm out of Daemon's grip and climbing down the ladder.

When he reached the bottom, he squeezed himself next to his sister who was currently being pulled into a tight hug by Dacey. "Oh, Your Grace, I'm so glad you're safe."

"I'm alright, Dacey," Rhaenys answered patiently, patting her on the back. "But I would be dead if it weren't for Aegon. He saved my life."

Dacey pulled back, sending him a wide smile. "Thank you."

"Right," Aegon responded slowly, feeling uncomfortable. Raising an eyebrow, he turned to Rhaenys. "Your Grace?" He repeated questioningly.

"Did I forget to mention that I'm a queen back in Westeros?" Rhaenys answered breezily, shrugging a shoulder.

"A queen?" He repeated again, feeling completely bewildered. "How – "

"Well, I suppose technically Rhaenys Targaryen is dead," she amended, waving a hand. "It was Maliya Martell that became a queen, the name I had taken when I was brought to Dorne. Although… now she's supposedly dead too," she finished, looking slightly confused with the logistics herself.

"I don't understand," Aegon confessed, shaking his head.

"Don't worry, we have time to get to know each other now," Rhaenys smiled, patting his hand. She looked up as Daemon made his way down the ladder and yelped, gripping the boat when Daemon's weight sent it rocking. He sent Aegon another long look and moved behind them, picking up a pair of oars and beginning to row them away from the ship.

Aegon watched as the ship that had been his home for the past seven years faded into the night. So many different emotions were filtering through him, tearing him apart on the inside. This wasn't what he had planned, this wasn't what was supposed to happen. It was true that Red was a hard, unforgiving man, but he was also the closest thing to a father that Aegon had. Now he was dead and the blood was on his hands.

He glanced over across the boat. Jantara was still glaring at him distrustfully, but she didn't break his gaze when he caught her. The other crew members were huddled together, keeping wary eyes on him and the dragon.

"There you go, Meraxes," he heard Rhaenys mutter, looking over to see her opening the crate. The small white dragon practically fled the cage with an exhultant cry, making the crewmembers jump and gasp. Rhaenys laughed lightly when she eagerly climbed up her arm to perch on her shoulder, stretching her wings to her full capacity. "That's better, isn't it?"

"How far is Lys?" Daemon asked from behind them.

"Keep going in this direction and we should reach it by morning. Before that, with some help," Aegon answered, reaching under the seats and pulling out two more pair of oars.

Jantara held out her hand for a pair oars. "This will help stop me from killing you," she explained in a short voice and Aegon nodded, giving her one pair while he took the other.

"Meraxes?" Rhaenys said in a confused voice as the dragon began beating her wings up and down, clipping the side of his head with one. They all watched with awe as the dragon took flight for the first time. Her wings weren't entirely steady at first and she wobbled more than once, making Rhaenys tense. "Oh," she breathed, her eyes following her dragon as she gained more confidence and began to soar around, letting out a happy shriek. Aegon noticed a tear slipping down her cheek even though her smile was widening. "It makes you wonder, doesn't it? How can so many bad things happen in a world where something so beautiful and amazing as this happens?"

There was no answer to that question and she knew it.

"I hate to end this beautiful moment, but what is your plan exactly?" Aegon questioned, his eyes still on Meraxes. How many people other than the ones sitting in this boat have seen a real dragon fly? "How are we finding this aunt of ours when we reach Lys?"

"I suppose we'll need to find another ship," Rhaenys frowned, glancing over at Jantara. "Any chance you'd be able to help us out with this?" She asked hopefully.

Jantara stared at her for a long moment while she rowed, debating. "Only because you helped us escape," she finally responded. "There's a Lyseni captain that owes my father and I a favor. But – " she said quickly, interrupting the grateful look that was beginning to spread across Rhaenys' face. "Only if there's full disclosure. You must tell him about the dragon and who you are and even then he still has the right to refuse to allow you on his ship."

"I understand," Rhaenys answered, nodding solemnly. "Thank you, Jantara. You know, you are more than welcome to come with – "

"No," Jantara said quickly, looking slightly apologetic as Rhaenys blinked in surprise. "Thank you for the offer. But my people and I need to go home. We have families to inform of the death of their loved ones."

"Of course," Rhaenys said, bowing her head slightly. One of Jantara's crew members pulled her into a conversation and Rhaenys used to the distraction to look up at Meraxes again.

"Rhaenys? Are you alright?" Dacey asked, frowning at the strange look on her queen's face.

"Something amazing came out of being captured by pirates," Rhaenys smiled, looking over at Aegon. He shifted uncomfortably at the happiness shining from her eyes as another tear slipped from her cheek. She was accepting the fact that they were siblings much easier than he was. "Meraxes has learned how to fly. I've learned that I'm with child, and I found my baby brother," she murmured, clasping her hand in his. "And now I'm once again on my way to find my aunt. I'm putting my family back together, Dacey. There are few things that feel better than this."

* * *

 **Author's Note: So this chapter reached 20,000 words before I realized that I had to cut it in half. I am glad most of you liked the twist with the pirates and I hope you liked how I wrapped it up!**

 **Lots of revelations in this chapter :)** **Rhaenys is now officially Rhaenys from now on (you have no idea how many times I typed Maliya when writing this chapter), she's pregnant with baby Stark (finally!) and Asher is really Aegon in disguise! Kudos to those of you that guessed that. Now they are officially on their way to Dany with no more obstacles getting in the way. Promise!**

 **Time for you guys to start suggesting baby names! I know what the gender's going to be and I have an idea on a name, but I'd like to hear all your suggestions in case your idea is better. Please keep in mind the history between the Targaryens/Martells and the Starks.**

 **Okay time for a mini rant: For those of you saying that Maliya/Rhaenys is selfish and that you hate her character - I feel the need to point out to you that character arcs and evolution happen over time...we're only 27 chapters in. A year ago Rhaenys hated her husband and didn't want a family. Now she loves Robb and is carrying his child. She's found her brother and is traveling across the world to find her aunt. She's going to fight with her need for revenge and her desire for a family - do you want her to just give up on avenging the death of her mother? As you can see from this chapter, she's learning just how much pain her actions can cause those around her. Besides, Game of Thrones is all about revenge - Daenerys will do anything to claim back her family's throne. Robb's refuses to go home because his main goal is avenging his father's death. Arya literally turns into an assassin to avenge her family. And don't even get me started on Doran and Oberyn, who let me remind you, raised Rhaenys and had a huge influence on the way she is. Rhaenys has her flaws, yes, all characters should. And maybe I'm biased because I created her, but I don't see her flaws as bad enough to hate the character, but that's just me. I'm not going to change her or the plans I have for her character arc, so if you don't like it, don't read it. Rant over :)**

 **Next chapter: Rhaenys and company finally meet Daenerys and we catch a glimpse of Robb and what he's been up to.**

 ****Just a quick note – we're still on season three, about the fourth or fifth episode in as far as Robb's storyline is concerned. As for Dany's, I'm going to speed her timeline up a bit because we all know how she acquires the Unsullied and the sellswords. This way I'll be able to focus more on the dynamic between Rhaenys, Aegon and Dany.**

Anonymous - Thank you! I really did like your guess, but I figured the pirates would want to sell the slaves and the dragon as quickly as possible and Lys is closer than Astapor. Thanks for reviewing.

RevanKnight25 - Thanks so much!

Guest - I'm so happy you liked the twist with the pirates and good call with Aegon! What are the odds indeed? Almost like it was fate...

Cgv - Here's the next chapter! Hope you like this one too.


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